Catleya
by Claidi
Summary: She thought she was but a bane to her illustrious family. And despite her deeds, she still could not see past the epithet that demoted her superficially. But events would happen, changing the way people looked on her, and the way she looked unto herself.
1. Prologue

Prologue 

"Catleya, pack your bags. We will go to Ayortha for a visit." King Charmont told his daughter. 

A girl the age of sixteen looked up. She had the tawny curls of her father which reached down to her waist. She had the pale skin of her mother, Queen Ella. But she didn't get the stature of a china doll her mother had. She was rather tall for her age but she had small feet, the size of her mother's. She got the green eyes of her mother too. And most unfortunately, she got the rebelliousness of her mother.

"I don't want to go to Ayortha." Catleya replied. 

"Why not?" Char asked.

"It's too quiet there. And what will I do there? Be a mime? No. I won't go."

Char looked at his wife, Queen Ella, who was sitting a few feet away from them. "You talk to her, Ella." He said.

Queen Ella smiled and went there while King Charmont went out.

"Catleya, we will be going to Ayortha to visit Aunt Areida. She misses you!" Ella told her daughter. 

"Mother, please don't talk to me like a baby." Catleya said, completely ignoring her mother.

"Catleya, listen to me." Ella looked straight at her daughter's green eyes. "We will go to Ayortha, whether you like it or not. And Catleya, I have noticed that even if you are already fifteen, you still act like a baby."

"Mother, I'm sixteen. Haven't you forgotten that my birthday was a week ago?" 

"Oh, sixteen! Anyway, pack your bags just as your father has told you." 

"Alright. But then, what if I don't? And what if I have nothing to do there?"

"If you don't, you're in big trouble. If you have nothing to do there, why not talk to Prince Tristan of Ayortha. He is a nice lad. And you haven't seen him for…five years. And he is about you age too."

"Mother, he a year older than me and he doesn't speak. All Ayorthaians don't. That is why I don't want to go near that place. I remember the story Father told me when he was first in Ayortha. The Ayorthaians have energy to say one word."

"Nonsense! Your Aunt Areida, she talks."

"Not much."

"Never mind!" Queen Ella raised up her hands in exasperation. "Pack your bags, Catleya. I know this trip is a bit short notice but, there is nothing I could do."

"You can do something. You can 'accidentally' leave me behind." 

"Catleya, you act like a child. Now go to your room to pack. Now."

"Wait a moment." 

Before Queen Ella went out, Catleya heard her mumble to herself, "Why didn't I ask Lucinda to give her the gift of obedience? I surely need it right now. Instead when I gave birth, she gave you a ring. Whatever the use." 

Catleya sighed when she heard the name Lucinda. Her mother often told her tales about her childhood where there were fairies that she actually talked with and experienced their magic. She said she once had the curse of obedience. Catleya just laughed. When Queen Ella told her about Mandy being a fairy, Catleya laughed again. Mandy didn't show her some magic so she was unconvinced. She thought, if Mandy is a fairy, then why won't she make my Tonic delicious instead of slimy? The only thing that she believed is her having fairy blood. The feet. The tiny feet that made Catleya clumsy. Catleya always hated this feet. She thinks that it not proportional to her height. She always thought, _it is a good thing I am thin. If I were fat then I might fall. _But even if Catleya didn't believe in Mandy being a fairy and Lucinda the fairy, she believed in magic. It just didn't want to show itself to her. 


	2. Under The Light Of Resplendence

Under The Light Of Resplendence 

My family was one of the most cherished rulers of Kyrria. 

When my grandparents decided that their rule was no longer needed and that their health was preventing them from doing so, they handed down the reins to my family. 

Nobody thought that they were making a mistake. 

Father was just and courageous. No one was above the law in his kingdom. Everybody was treated fairly. Rebellion never broke out in any part of Kyrria. War never happened. There were those who criticized his decisions, but then, what would a kingdom be without skeptics? Though there were, they themselves trusted their lives to my father. They ridiculed but it was for the better. Everybody actually prayed that he would live long or maybe that my brother would be like him. 

Mother was charming and witty. She could always make people laugh with her contrariness. She was not the perfect lady who could sweep graceful curtsies and speak in a soft pretty voice. There was this spark inside my mother that made her stand out. Her inner child was present at appropriate times, ready to make us all laugh and be entertained. Some ladies disapproved of her behavior though, mainly because she did not fit their standards for queen. If being queen meant that she should stay in one place, just praying for the kingdom's safety, then my mother was no queen. She was herself, queen or no, and she didn't care if anybody cared.

My older brother, Owen, who was now nineteen, followed Father's footsteps. He was not in the castle at the moment. He was going around Kyrria, fighting ogres and finding out what's wrong with the projects that our father initiated. He was just like him: just and courageous. He was courteous and handsome. He could make any lady fall for him in a day, and it did happen, but he never really paid attention to romance. Once I told him, "It will hit you in the head without you knowing." And he laughed, saying that he would know because he was the one who would hit himself with it. 

As I said, my family was one of the most cherished rulers of Kyrria.

But that was just for my father, mother, and brother.  What about the youngest daughter? Catleya? 

I doubted that someone really cared about my existence. I was not the heir, unlike my brother. I could not rule now, unlike my father. I was not special and inspiring, unlike my mother. Who was I in a family of great sovereigns? Plain Catleya, that was what I was. No one really called me that. It was a self-implemented title. I was not extraordinary unlike my mother. I got her rebelliousness, yes, but it was more of an impediment rather than charming trait. Contrariness was one of my traits from Mother but my words could be so tactless and insulting, not the words my mother used to make people smile. Wit was also one but sometimes I thought so deep and profound that no one really understood the wit in my statement.

I could say I was intelligent. I read books for most of the time. My room could be the library. Owen was also clever and I often challenged him with impertinent questions. We always end up debating about a certain issue, much to my parents' delight. They believed it was a step to social awareness, a very important trait for ruling. But my intelligence was limited to text. I knew about many lessons and I could defy a scholar but it wasn't enough. Owen, on the other hand, was different. He was knowledgeable and he used his knowledge to the extent. He applied his wisdom for Kyrria. Compared to him, I was a selfish brat who wouldn't even dare try to teach a fool. 

If my mother was not the perfect lady, then I might be the girl nearest to being one. I was graceful when dancing, and my singing was not that out of tune. My voice was modulated but it wasn't boisterous and maddening. But then, it was only through performance and besides, dressing up and making yourself fair was not one of my interests. A lady was supposed to be docile and timid, while I was assertive and defiant. 

People knew me through two traits that I was not proud of.

Rebelliousness and Beauty. 

They say that I was a fairy but I wasn't. Some people called me the Flower of Kyrria, mainly because of my name. They say that my beauty rivaled the beauty of Queen Vanessa of Ayortha. They say that my green eyes were expressive and soulful. I did have admirers, and they all adored me. They say many things to me, everything good. They all want to seek my heart. But why? These men hardly knew me and now they were pouring their hearts and souls to me when they've only just seen my face and have not heard my words. Their praises were tiring and I wished them all ill from the bottom of my soul. They only see my face, and not my mind or heart or soul. 

But when I looked into a mirror I did not see the beautiful young girl, as people had gossiped about, yet a girl who could not reach the expectations set by her own family. 

Who was I next to such great people? 

Was I overshadowed by those who love me?

Could I be more than just Catleya, a pretty face in the castle of Kyrria?

I really didn't know the answer to my questions. I was happy with myself but I was not _happy._ I knew I could do more and I tried to do more, but why was I in one stagnant point? I was glad that I was Catleya and not another person but there was more to Catleya than the one now. I was confused and running around in circles. But I promised myself, no, I will not show it. I didn't want to because when I do, everyone would know that I was a failure.

~*~

Ayortha was I place I would love to love but would love to hate. People there did not talk. And I was garrulous. I would have a better conversation with a tree rather than with an Ayorthaian. Usually, if I were in Ayortha, I would have to spend time with the nobles. Commoners speak but nobles don't. Well, they do but not often.

I especially did not like spending time with Queen Vanessa or Aunt Vanessa. She was not an Ayorthaian. She was from Erima and was a gorgeous woman. She was also my mother's friend. She liked me but whenever someone mentioned that I could easily rival and conquer her own beauty, she would shun me for weeks or until I visit again from Kyrria. When she was not shunning me, she was toying with me. 

I knew that when I step foot on Ayortha, she would instantly kiss my cheeks politely and then drag me to her chambers and try to play dress-up with me. She saw me as the loveliest life-sized china doll that she could play with. She would fix my hair which was often always in disarray. She even got close to painting my face but I didn't permit it. She would dress me up in beautiful and extravagant gowns, which I didn't also like. They were too…exorbitant and flaunting. I appreciated looking nice and comely but it didn't mean that I enjoyed it. It was irrelevant to everything. One could always fulfill something even without wearing a beautiful dress. 

Her son, Tristan, was not much of a consolation. Since he was not pure Ayorthaian, he was actually talkative, like his mother. To be frank about our relationship, I could safely say that we hated each other from the bottom of our hearts. He was a spoiled brat. He was intelligent, yes, but he would brag his infinite knowledge of whatever he knew. Oh what else could I say about that obnoxious, impertinent imbecile who has nothing more but an iridescent flame of impishness? How my blood curdles with the mere thought of him. But then…I last met him five years ago and _anything _could happen in five years. I was a mature, knowledgeable young lady and I would not sink down to his level of thinking. He probably still hates me for punching his nose. All I could say was that _It was his fault. _I would be willing to give him another chance to act his age but I would not be patient. 

Aunt Areida was a comfort in Ayortha. Once, she gave me the tour of the whole of Ayortha. The only way to describe Ayortha was through an exotic colorful bird with a harmonious song. She also talked so this was a consolation. She and my mother were the closest friends. They met in finishing school, a place my mother considered a dungeon with torture. I was thankful she wouldn't send me to a finishing school.

I guessed I was lying about Aunt Areida and Tristan not talking when I argued with Mother yesterday. She did talk but I really needed an excuse not to go there.

Since I've grown, I knew that Aunt Vanessa would be more enthusiastic to play with me. 

"What are you thinking about?" a voice broke in my thoughts. Mother was seated beside me, looking at me with the same green eyes. Father was riding his horse. He much preferred the outdoors rather than the inside of a carriage. Mother would be next to him if I weren't here. We were already on our way to Ayortha but it would be a good five days before we actually get there.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just thinking." 

"Well, at least you're not exploding with anger. I'm really glad you came with us Catleya, without a scandalous tantrum in the hall," Mother said. She laughed suddenly. I could feel my face turn red.

"I was still eleven back then." 

Mother was still laughing. "But you caused the royal household a great fright. They all thought you've come up with this mental illness!"

I made a face. I remember it perfectly. I was still a child and the perfect brat. Mother told me I needed to go to Ayortha. By that time, I was already traumatized by Aunt Vanessa's games of dress up, and fed up with Tristan's taunts and pranks. Tears were practically falling down my tears like that of a waterfall's. I slid down the banister, something Mother and I did when no one was looking, and stormed to the main hall. I intended to go to the kitchen to vent out my frustrations to Mandy but Mother caught me there. I started screaming: "No one loves me and everybody hates me! How could you make me go to that place? I thought I was your daughter!!" I didn't want to tell her that Aunt Vanessa and Tristan were the reasons for my resistance. If she knew, Aunt Vanessa would know, and then she would hate me. I didn't like Aunt Vanessa much but I did like her enough to try and make her fondness for me last. I didn't care whether Tristan would hate me. We already hate each other at that time.

"Well I wasn't. Is Owen coming to Ayortha too?" I missed my older brother. He had been gone for weeks and the palace was different without him. It seemed empty without someone to debate with. Father and Mother were always busy taking care of the kingdom.

Mother nodded. I wondered why people called me beautiful when my mother was more beautiful that I. She certainly has a more pleasing personality than intellectual me. "I sent him a letter. I just hope that he would receive him. I worry about him but then I shouldn't worry much. Your father went on the same expedition when he was just eighteen. And Owen's been doing it since he turned eighteen." 

I sighed. Ever since Owen left, she had been flipping in and out of worry. "He will be fine, Mother. After all, he took after Father. And he has been doing this for a rather suitably long time." 

"Yes. But then, what sort of mother would I be if I don't worry for his safety?" my mother shot back. Sometimes she acted like my sister, sometimes my mother. 

"As far as I know, Owen is fine. He sends me letters occasionally. Actually, I think he's enjoying it."

Mother's face was suddenly ashen. "Being with ogres is not enjoyable, Catleya. I don't want you going to Fens just for entertainment." 

I knew about her encounters with ogres. But then, if she wasn't captured, humans wouldn't have a weapon against them. Mother discovered that their powers to manipulate people through speech could be used against it. She was the first to use it. She saved herself because of this. Because of her discovery, humans could now resist ogres. Her method was used in all the kingdoms to defeat the ogres. That was one of the reasons why she was great.

Another reason was because she instigated schools in Kyrria. The schools taught the citizens to speak Ogrese so then they could protect themselves from their monsters. The people were taught the language and the manner of this technique. Mother often taught the students there when she had the time. She was the best Ogrese speaker and the pioneer to the method. But then, I was her best student.

Mother personally taught Owen and I this. I was better than Owen. Owen had this slight accent that hindered complete control. But then, that didn't stop him from controlling ogres. I didn't have the accent and I was a natural linguist. 

I could speak fluently in Kyrrian (of course), Ayorthaian, Ogrese, and Elfin. I was quite acquainted with Gnomic and Abdegi. Mother was fluent in all those languages and more. Linguistics was one of my traits that I inherited from Mother. Mother was Court Linguist, and I was following her steps. 

Because I was better than Owen, it meant that I could rub it in. I spoke with him in Ogrese, ordering him to look silly, like hopping on one foot. If he were caught off guard, he would be under my spell for minutes, but not long. 

"I could take care of myself." 

Mother smirked. "Yes, you can take care of yourself but that doesn't mean you have to go barging in their tribes demanding a lesson in Ogrese."

I laughed. "Owen and I can take care of ourselves but that doesn't mean we would put ourselves in danger. But…Owen did…so maybe he's crazy." 

Mother smiled.  "And I forgot to tell you that we are not just going to Ayortha because of Areida."

For some reason, there was cold dread in my stomach.

"What's the other reason?" 

My mother paused, trying to think. I knew by her face that the next words would make me—

"We're coming as the honorary guests of a celebration for the return of Prince Tristan from his travels," she told me curtly.

My jaw dropped. "I am attending a ball for that…that moronic evil person?" I almost screamed. 

Mother was laughing again. "Catleya, I know you are very smart but that is a very dim-witted description." She suddenly became serious. "Yes, you are attending a celebration in his honor. You do know that he started traveling when he was fifteen. Now he returns after two years to celebrate his safe return. Vanessa had been very concerned when he left." 

I was scowling. Visiting Aunt Areida was a joy but attending a ball for Tristan was not. But deep inside, I was laughing. _Moronic evil person_?? 

Mother raised her eyebrow. "I know you don't like Tristan much—" 

"Very much," I interjected.

"But we as the rulers of Kyrria should show courtesy to our neighbors," Mother continued. "And I've been looking forward to seeing Areida and Vanessa again. I can't say that you should try not to be mad at him. I can't do it if I were you." 

"I could still forgive him," I confided, "after all it was five years ago. But if he makes one measly blunder, I will never speak with him again." 

"He played pranks on you, and you played pranks on his too. It's both your fault."  

I decided to ignore her second statement. "He was _not _prankish. It was an understatement! He is an infernal, diabolical, and maniacal whelp!" 

Mother rolled her eyes. "He is childish but he is now seventeen. When you were the same age as he was when he became the infernal, diabolical—well, my point is you are being a hypocrite because you were once like him." 

I couldn't exactly remonstrate her statement. I was a brat…a whelp…but that was before! But that impudent boy five years ago might not be the young man I would meet again. The impudent boy might have changed like the impudent girl. 

"But you did punch his nose and that would merit five years of hatred from him," Mother suddenly said.

"But he placed dung on my bedroom," I retorted. Tristan and I were warring worlds. It all started when we first laid eyes on each other. I was seven and he was eight. Mother and Aunt Vanessa looked at us happily. I didn't know what they were thinking, and I hate to wonder what. I saw him as a scrawny boy and he saw me as a skinny girl taller than him. There were always instances when little girls and little boys look at each other and feel nothing but immature loathing. That happened to Tristan and I, unfortunately, we still disliked each other after four years when we met. 

When he dumped muck on the bedroom I was staying in while I was in Ayortha, I knew it was the last draw. I hunted him down like a hound on a fox. I found him in the gardens, snickering and triumphing in his latest blow to me. I marched right up to him and punched him on the nose. _He had it coming._

I didn't know if we would still hate each other now that we were young adults, but then I would have to wait and see.

Mother leaned back. "I don't blame you though. I suppose punching noses will run in our family. Owen punched an old playmate of his. But then he was eight and young. You were eleven and already have half the decent mind you have now."

Owen did punch someone on the nose. The reason was because of me. When I was still five, I was defiant but this bully was impossible to take on. The bully was nine years old and I wouldn't bother to remember his name. I forgot what he was supposed to be doing but he kept on teasing me, pulling my hair, and calling me terrible names. My brother saw him and punched him on the nose. The bully was too surprised to react and ran away. I wondered who he was… My brother was as special to me as I was special to him. We had this bond that couldn't be broken. 

"I punched the nose of a girl before," Mother mused. 

"Why?" 

"You wouldn't believe it." 

I knew what she meant. I believed her story about the curse of obedience but I found it hard to believe. It wasn't because I saw my mother a liar, but because it was so incredible that it confused me. And I didn't like being confused. I laughed when she told me the story just to hide my bafflement. Mother decided to make me laugh even more by telling me that Mandy was a fairy. This was unbelievable. Mandy never did anything extraordinary and when I asked her, she scowled at me so terribly that I avoided her for days. I supposed that she was offended that she was being laughed at. Lucinda was the fairy who gave my mother the curse. She also gave Owen and I rings that I haven't found the use for. Lucinda could be my mother's ploy to make life more interested. Not that life wasn't interesting with ogres, elves, gnomes, and dwarfs. Fairies allegedly didn't show themselves to us humans and because of this I didn't believe that Mandy was a fairy. Well, obviously she wouldn't be our cook if she were a fairy!

My feet and my mother's curse were the two things that justified their existence. My feet were tiny. It was a good thing I wasn't plump or else I might fall over. I was rather clumsy too. I sometimes tripped on my own feet despite the fact that I was a graceful dancer. Tiny feet were easy to dance with. You didn't have to worry about stepping on your own feet. 

I stared at my feet. "Do you think that Tristan would still be the same?" I asked Mother.

"He wouldn't be the same. This I am sure of. Two years of traveling could at least do some good to him. You changed, how come he can't?"

I nodded. For some reason, I was excited to meet Tristan again. No one really won in our arguments. We were both healthy with words that could easily make a timid person red. But then, I wanted to see if I could still kick his shins.

~*~

Yeah! It's done! It's not a continuation of What If but it's the relative of What If. I mentioned Owen and Catleya in the epilogue of What If. 

Anyways, Catleya can't be the carbon copy of Ella because then it would be very boring. Mainly because Catleya doesn't have proper character development because she is…well…Ella in a way. Yes, the gnome said she'd be like he but in OTHER ways that you will soon discover later. That's what I meant. Catleya inherited traits from Ella but she is NOT Ella. Ok? Besides, if I made Catleya that way, she wouldn't be a real individual. I mean, how many kids ACTUALLY _are _carbon copies of their parents?

I know. Ella changed. She has to change because if you add nineteen years to a person's life, change is bound to happen. It is inevitable. But of course the very important traits are still there! ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ

I hope you like this chapter. Did you actually think I neglected this? The only reason I did was that I decided it would be the "continuation" to What If. You can't make a continuation if the story you're continuing is still in the making!

It's been a long time since I actually paid attention to this story but I realized that I couldn't leave it alone now that I wrote it in the epilogue. ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ

Thank you to the reviewers who reviewed this year and who reviewed last year!! 

Now that didn't sound right…

Claidi


	3. An Exotic Colorful Bird

When we arrived in Ayortha, there was a slight celebration. There were people infront of the castle welcoming us with smiles. I looked out the window. I could see some familiar faces. Aunt Areida was infront of them, with a wide smile. Her sister, Aunt Isti, was beside her. There were many other people. My family was rather popular in Ayortha, mainly because Mother was close to their queen, and that she was friends with many commoners. When mother and I stepped out of the carriage, they all burst into a homecoming song. 

Oak, granite 

_Lilies by the road,_

_Remember me?_

_I remember you._

_Clouds brushing_

_Clover hills,_

_Remember me?_

_Sister, child, _

_Grown tall,_

_Remember me?_

_I remember you._

_In my mind_

_I see you_

_In your mind,_

_Do you see me?_

Remember me? 

_I've come back_

_To this place._

_I hope you do._

Mother and Father softly followed the song. They were smiling at each other, sharing a clandestine memory of long ago. Their love was so strong and everlasting. They were the constant reminder of my lacking in love. I've never been in love and seeing them made me wish I already had. But then, I shouldn't rush it. I might just regret it! 

"Elle!" 

Aunt Areida pushed through the crowd and welcomed my mother with open arms. She was a pretty lady with dark hair and amber skin. She always looked happy with her lips that curved up naturally. I glanced at Aunt Isti, her older sister. She did not share the facial gifts of her sister, but her eyes had a spark that made her compelling. 

Father was bowing to them. I curtsied. I was aware of all the eyes on me. Aunt Isti turned her attention to my father, and engaged him in a conversation. I backed away, knowing that I was just a hindrance.  

Aunt Areida turned their attention to me. 

"Oh, Catleya!" she cried. She hugged. "How much you've grown in five years! I barely recognized you!"

I smiled. "I haven't changed Aunt Areida." 

She frowned slightly. "Well, I don't want a little brat now, do I?" she told me teasingly.

Suddenly, the crowd parted and there were their Royal Highnesses. King Orono, Queen Vanessa, Prince Ettore, and Princess Adara. King Orono was shorter than Father, with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Queen Vanessa was truly very lovely. Ever since she was thirteen, everybody regarded her as beautiful. When she was still a baby, everyone predicted she would be so. She had black hair and blue eyes. But the blue of her eyes were not of the ordinary. Her eyes were like the summer sky, cloudless and bright. Prince Ettore was just the same age as I was. Princess Adara was younger than me by two years. They were also the younger versions of their father with the chestnut hair and hazel eyes.

Father, Uncle Orono, and Prince Ettore bowed to each other, while Mother, Aunt Vanessa, Adara, and myself curtsied. When Vanessa laid her eyes on me, I saw her mouth open slightly. Ettore and Adara were ogling at me. What was their problem?

Uncle Orono, Aunt Vanessa, Ettore, and Adara acknowledged Aunt Areida and Aunt Isti's presence with a nod. To some it might seem a bit distant and rude because Aunt Areida was close to Aunt Vanessa because of Mother. In fact, this was the way Ayorthaian nobles greeted anybody. Since they did not speak much, they didn't also have ostentatious gestures. 

Aunt Vanessa was not an Ayorthaian and grew up in Erima, a place with rather chatty citizens. I knew that she was particularly vexed with this etiquette but she was queen and she should be the paragon of Ayorthaian culture. But behind closed doors, she was a talking maniac, babbling and rambling about everything under the sun. She only did this when no one was looking and when her companions were those who knew her. Tristan was different. Though he was raised in Ayortha, he was as talkative as his mother. And he didn't care if anybody saw him.

Uncle Orono was the prince of Ayortha before, and he had been as silent as a mouse since the day he was born. But then, he opened his mouth when he met Vanessa. He loved her so much that he broke the rules of noble Ayorthaian conformity and chatted until dawn for her. When they were married, Uncle Orono and Aunt Vanessa realized that they couldn't keep on talking because the whole court didn't talk. And when they were king and queen, they realized also that they should be like the unspeaking nobles of the Ayorthaian court. But I had a feeling that they spoke a great deal when no one was paying attention.

The reason why I bore feelings close to indifference towards Ettore and Adara was because they were as docile as sheep and as quite as the soft breeze. I remember myself screaming at them, telling that children were supposed to be noisy and energetic, but they just nodded and said like any other Ayorthaian noble, "By your leave." I had given up on them. Tristan was boisterous and kept on annoying me. That was why I hated him. 

I could see Aunt Vanessa's mouth twitching. I knew she was trying hard not to burst into prattle. She smiled courteously and with a look to her family, led us all to the castle. There were already nobles awaiting our arrival. They bowed and nodded. Some were saying, "Welcome" in inaudible tones. Some opened their mouths but nothing came out. My parents were already used to this etiquette and returned their bows and nods. I copied them.

We were showed to our rooms. I was separated with Father and Mother, but Father whispered to my ear that we would meet again in dinner time. I was pushed to the room and Aunt Vanessa followed.

The bedroom was a blend of oranges and yellows, giving it a sunny atmosphere. The four-poster bed was dressed with yellow covers trimmed with lace. Closer inspection revealed an intricate embroidery of orange blossoms. The side table to the right of the bed had a copper candleholder with amber stones hanging from it. At the other side table to the left had a crystal vase with yellow daffodils, baby's breath, and yellow daisies. The room was the same room Tristan had polluted with muck. My eyebrows raised with the coming of that vile memory. Behind me, I heard Aunt Vanessa sigh.

"Dear, dear, I think my tongue is rotting with the silence!" she said. She glanced at me and smiled. "Catleya. When I last saw you as a child, a mere girl of eleven years, I thought, this girl will not grow up to be beautiful. But look at you! Of course, I simply could not believe the rumors coming from Kyrria, that you were the flower of the court! Remember, when you were still ten and you visited us? Someone told me you would be more beautiful than I, and I shunned you! But I must admit she was _almost_ right. You are beautiful but not as beautiful as I." She said this all in one breath. She suddenly circled me with a analyzing eye. "You are enviable, Catleya." 

Of course, by now anybody would be wondering why I considered myself overshadowed when the most beautiful lady of Ayortha was telling me I was enviable. No, I was still overshadowed even though I shone out like a jewel among rocks in a ball where beauty was important. I found this irrelevant to the matter. What was the point of being known as beautiful when you have nothing else to boast off? Father was handsome and boasted of great power and just. Mother was beautiful and she boasted to linguistics and charm. Owen was handsome and boasted of valiance and cleverness. I might be intelligent but not a lot knew that. There was nothing I could boast off aside from rebelliousness and beauty, and this I didn't like. I supposed that maybe my face overshadowed my other qualities, and since my other qualities was outshone by it, I was easily overshadowed by my family's accomplishments. I might not be to other people, but I was to myself. 

"I am not enviable," I told her. "Aunt Vanessa, I am just a princess, nothing more." 

Aunt Vanessa smirked. "Say what you want but I personally think you are. And now, since you're older," her eyes gleamed mischievously as she spoke, "I can now do many more things to you." 

I frowned. She played with me when I was still eleven, treating me as if I was already twenty. She dressed me up in voluminous gowns and almost painted my face. I was _still _eleven. Now that I was sixteen, who knows what else she would subject upon me?

"I am not a little girl anymore."

"Ah yes, but you're a lady now. But our game is for ladies!" She closed in on me. I could feel my heart quicken. "We could start with your hair. Why do you leave your wavy hair down with no such ornaments and curls? Or maybe not your hair…" She paused to think. "Why not your clothing? You look so simple in that gown!" 

I automatically looked at my gown. It was a simple gown, yes, but it suited my tastes. It was simply green with yellow flowers embroidered at the hems. I liked wearing this because the petticoats were not an obstruction to your walking. Besides, the material was cool and soft. 

"I feel that this gown is suited for the occasion." Which was true because traveling was tedious. I would not be found traveling many miles to a new kingdom wearing gowns that should be in a ball. 

Aunt Vanessa sighed. "Well, you are now a lady and capable of making her own decisions. But tomorrow I will dress you up. Tomorrow is the ball so I would want you to be my masterpiece." 

I curtsied. "It would be my pleasure." But it was not. It was only a reply of courtesy. I was living in her own castle and she could easily throw me out just as easily as she let me in. I was kind of afraid of her "masterpiece." She would go through lengths for this, I knew. 

She smiled. "I'm so happy that Tristan will be returning." 

I didn't say anything. She gestured to the window seat to the left. She sat down on it and I followed. If I opened my mouth, I would probably tell her that her son was a moron who had better luck in getting lost than returning. 

Her blue eyes were looking at me. "I'm not daft Catleya. I know that you dislike my son." 

"I don't dislike him. Why should I?" Liar.

She was actually smiling. "I know that he dumped manure all over this room just to annoy you. And I know you punched him in the nose. I know you two are at each other's throats since the day you met. Well, there's nothing I can do about it." 

"I didn't mean to hate him. And if it displeases you, I could try not to feel so strongly against him." 

Aunt Vanessa laughed. "No, no!" she said in her musical voice. "I don't want you doing that. He doesn't like you and you don't like him, and that's fine with me. Actually, watching the two of you battle each other is rather entertaining." 

Then suddenly she was serious. "But I know that Tristan and yourself had changed in five years. I know that he is the young man he should be and you are the young lady that you should be." 

"What's your point?" I blurted out.

Aunt Vanessa ignored my impoliteness. "So don't expect me to tolerate public acts of hatred. But I _will_ miss that…" 

"When will he arrive?" I asked. 

"Today or tomorrow. He left the kingdom of Keneisa five days ago. He wrote to me. He should be back by now or tomorrow." 

When she left, I decided to enjoy my temporary solitude. As I was still sitting at the window seat, I glanced out the window. My view was the rooftops of Iswi. Iswi was the capital city of Ayortha, as Frell was the capital city of Kyrria. The castle of Ayortha was in Iswi while the castle of Kyrria was in Frell. 

It made me wonder what Tristan was doing in Keneisa when two years ago Ayortha and Keneisa had a feud about a certain city, Teleme. It was once an ignored settlement until a healthy supply of mining areas was discovered. It was located near Fens, Ayortha, and Keneisa. Since the ogres want nothing to do with Teleme, Ayortha and Keneisa were arguing over a place. Sure, the discoverers of Teleme should have a say on this but they were arguing to. The discoverers were Ayorthaian and Keneisan. Their feud was harmful to the alliance of the three kingdoms: Ayortha, Keneisa, and Kyrria. Our kingdom had to interfere to resolve it.

Father and Mother were too busy with our own problems so they sent my brother Owen along with the ambassador of Kyrria. He was still seventeen at that time. Owen suggested that the two kingdoms receive equal portions of the mining. It was compromised and soon accepted. The fact that he was seventeen and that he made two kingdoms reach an agreement was exceptional. 

Tristan must have traveled there so then Ayortha and Keneisa would have a nice interaction. 

Speaking of traveling, I knew that I would have to stay in the Ayorthaian court soon. When Mother became twenty, she was sent to Ayortha for a year. Father said she came home frustrated. She kept on rambling about the noise in Ayortha. Mother couldn't stand too much silence. Father stayed in Ayortha for a year when he turned seventeen. He wrote to my mother that in an Ayorthaian council, the fly was the noisiest member. Owen stayed when he turned seventeen too. He wrote me letters. He said that Ayorthaians were unreasonably quiet. I knew they were but even though it was utterly and unquestionably unreasonable, there was actually a reason behind it. 

Ayorthaians believed that if there was too much of something, one shouldn't add to it. It was a tenet of one of the Ayorthaians' cherished philosopher Aquila. The tenet itself which was, and I quote, "Too much is too much. One mustn't add to it" was reasonable enough. It should be followed on certain circumstances. For example the trash problem in Fens. The waste in Fens were scattered all over because ogres were naturally boorish. Thus, we non-ogres should not add up to the pollution. Unfortunately and apparently, he spent time in the courts of Ayortha, found it unbearably noisy, and decided to spread the word of silence. It happened nearly centuries ago, a time when people were gullible enough to believe that silence would do a great difference.

Ayorthaian nobles decided that their court was too noisy so they ceased speaking altogether. Their balls and celebration compensated to their silence. The events were musical and lively. The monthly sings were the highlights. The whole populace knew every song in Ayortha and their voices were divine. I knew half the songs they sing and could easily sing with them. 

"Eremi orwo ehthe usensa odono adda iti" or "If there is too much, do not add to it." People said that it was a pertinent saying in our world but to be frank, I believed that Aquila only said this to make the once noisy Ayorthaians shut up. At least they still sang.

I averted my attention to the sun. I remembered a paean to the noon sun. There were for paeans just for the sun. The rising sun, the morning sun, the noon sun, and the setting sun.

I sang suddenly.

_Watch for me_

_Noon sun_

_Shine for me_

_Noon sun_

_Brighten my day_

_Noon sun_

_Shower me with your rays_

_As rain showers me with drops_

_Give life to my garden_

_Give light to my surroundings _

_I will watch until you set_

_And when you do_

_I will sing for you once again_

_Noon sun_

It was a beautiful song but it was more beautiful when sung by an Ayorthaian. Singing was already part of their system. An Ayorthaian was not an Ayorthaian if his or her voice was out of tune. Songs were included in their way of life. Singing before meals, singing while working. Instead of communal dances, they had communal sings. They would sing in the plaza every noon for the noon sun. 

Songs that date back to centuries ago was greatly associated with the environment. Ayortha was a place rich of lush array of flora and fauna. The Ayorthaians of long ago greatly revered nature. Songs were also related to emotions and feelings. There were many ballads about first love, infinite love, broken hearts, and lovers apart. There were funny songs, parables that were turned into songs. Fable songs were also popular among parents who sung this to their children. The songs were also about life and death. Their songs were not only for leisure and entertainment. It was their culture and it revealed much about Ayorthaian beliefs.

_  
_

_One day you were beside me_

_Now you are gone._

_Oh how could fate_

_Tear us bitterly apart?_

_I try not to believe it_

_But how can I not_

_When the truth is in front me_

_Calling my attention_

_And unveiling the reality of your demise?_

_You walk away_

_Leaving me behind_

_How could this happen,_

_This terrible consequence of living?_

_I could have given my own_

_Just for you._

_I could have entered that realm_

_With your hand in mine._

_And now I am desolate_

_Alone in a world of fear_

_Without your love_

_I am a hallow shell_

_But you will be sad_

_If I were to waste away _

_So until I see you again_

_I will stand strong_

_Awaiting the day _

_When I myself will walk away_

_And taste the fate that we all accept._

_  
_

 Mother hated this song. It was too depressing. Father respected this song because it meant a lot. Owen shared Father's insight about the song. They both believed that it unfurled the truth in an artistic and subtle way. As for me, I appreciated the song as an Ayorthaian classic. It actually meant a lot too, psychologically. It showed that a person undergoes stages when faced with death: denial, anger, bargaining, and desolation. But there was a positive insight in this song. _But you will be sad/If I were to waste away/So until I see you again/I will stand strong_. It said that your loved one would not want you to live a life of mourning and melancholy because of his or her death.

My musings could be so boring sometimes.

Suddenly, there was a painful jolt in my left ring finger. I cried in surprise. Then I was in this world of suspended motion and hazy images. A horse was falling. A piercing scream cut through the air. A menacing growl was right behind me. There was the sound of sword colliding with sword. Then there was wetness…red…red…_blood_. It was in my hands, slipping through my fingertips and dropping on the ground. 

Blood was contradictory. It both meant life and death. If it flowed in you, it meant life. If it flowed out of you, it meant death. 

But the blood in my hands felt as if it were mine. 

Tears were streaming down my face as I felt a gush of powerful emotions. Fear, anger, concern…

The blood was so red, so real…

Then I saw only darkness.

~*~

I had fainted. I was lying on the floor near the window seat. I tried to stand up and my legs refused. I lied down on the floor staring at the ceiling. I was suddenly worried for my sanity. 

It all seemed real. I looked at my hands and saw no blood. My eyes noticed the silver band with a small emerald. The ring Lucinda gave me. I stared at it closely. It was strange. I realized only now that I had worn this all my life yet it never felt tight or uncomfortable. I took it off. I observed it more closely. Words were engraved in the inside of the band. 

_Féséia ronhé limaña_

I scanned my brain for what possible language it could be. It was certainly not Kyrrian, Ayorthaian, Ogrese, Elfian, Gnomic, or Abdegi. I was well acquainted with Kenesa, Keneisa's language, and this was certainly not it. All the other languages I knew was not this. I squinted, making sure I was reading right. But I was reading right. _Féséia ronhé limaña, _it said.

I placed it back on my finger.

Before my illusions happened, I felt pain in the exact same finger. It seemed so real…

My sanity must be fading away. Reading books must have taken its toll in me. Now I was having feverish imaginings that seemed so real. I had seen the horse fall. I had heard the piercing scream. The growl was resonating in my ear. I still heard the swords. 

My face felt pale and cold. The tears that fell were icy against my cheeks. My legs were now feeling cooperative and I was able to stand up. I was still slightly wobbly. I breathed hard. My head was screaming a migraine. I decided to go to the gardens. I needed a breath of fresh air. 

My mind was still whirling with thoughts and memories of a few minutes ago, so I decided to avert my mind to other trivial matters. I settled on thinking about the gardens. It would be easier since I was surrounded by it. 

The royal gardens were taken care of at a great extent. The flowers were in patterns. The boxed hedges were perfect. There was not a sight of weed in any other area of the gardens. There were many gardens with corresponding names: Rose Garden, Lily Garden, Lotus garden, Daisy garden, Tulip Garden, Forget-Me-Not Garden, Orchid garden, and other such gardens bearing the names of the principal flowers found there. I decided to look at the Orchid Garden and look for a cattleya. 

Cattleya was actually a breed of orchid. It varied from different colors. Pink, red, orange, yellow, white, purple. Father and Mother didn't like the extra _t_ so they removed it and made it my name: Catleya, without the two _t_s. 

I walked along the cobblestone paths and bougainvillea filled archways. The bougainvilleas were laden with violet, white, magenta, and pink flowers. The cobblestone path led to a fork, and I saw a sign. _"Elfte: Oeso Ardina, Irheti: Irdomi Ardina," _it said. It was Ayorthaian for "Left: Rose Garden, Right: Orchid Garden." Of course, I took the right path. In no time, I was standing underneath an arch with orchids hanging above it. I was in my intended destination. There were many orchids and I looked at each one. I came across a exquisite orchid. It was white in the inside part of the flower, ending in pale pinks and dark violets. It was a cattleya. I wanted so much to pluck it out and put it in a vase, but I knew that it would be more appreciated as a flower attached to a plant rather than to a bottle. 

"Cattleya…" someone behind me said. I turned around. I thought I was called by my name then I realized that it was the flower the person was referring to.

It was a young man with black hair and blue eyes. The blue of his eyes was like the sky above us, bright and pure. He was grinning. Somehow, he looked familiar, but none of my thoughts would settle. I was rather enraged because of his intrusion but then, I had to be taken back. He was handsome. I was not one of those ladies who giggled flirtatiously, batted their eyelashes furiously, and ogled openly towards men they favored. I preferred to hide my own emotions. I actually surprised myself by actually wanting to know this person who just spoke _one _word to me. Despite this, I was still annoyed. 

"Yes, the cattleya," I replied with a hint of irritation. 

He nodded. "It's a very beautiful flower. Although not a lot of people know about it." I knew right then that he wasn't an Ayorthaian noble. He spoke too much. But he couldn't be a commoner because his clothes were rich. _I _could be the one mistaken to be a commoner in my simple frock. 

"Not a lot of people know about it because we all classify orchids as orchids, nothing more," I told him. 

He smiled. "I don't suppose you classify orchids as merely orchids. If you do, then you might have looked up at me and said, 'What are cattleyas?'"

To my surprise, I laughed. "Well, I'm not exactly stupid. And I don't suppose you are too." 

"I'm not," he said with a laugh. "But I haven't seen this garden for a long time now." 

"Traveling, am I right?" He nodded. "People travel a lot these days. Actually—" I never got to finish my sentence because Mother and Aunt Vanessa came into the garden. Both were taking big steps and their hands were on their hips.

Exasperation was in Mother's eyes. "Why didn't you respond to my call?" she demanded. "I called for you some minutes ago but you didn't come down!" 

I couldn't exactly say that I fainted. If I did, Mother would go ballistic. "I was asleep," I replied. 

"Asleep?" Mother repeated incredulously. "No one sleeps in the middle of the day!" 

"_I_ sleep in the middle of the day," I protested. I ignored Mother rambling and noticed that Aunt Vanessa was also speaking with the young man. 

When I looked, I realized that each bore a resemblance of each other. 

"What were you doing wandering about? You're suppose to be in one place waiting for me!" she shrilled.

"You didn't say anything about that," he replied. "I just arrived from a tedious travel and now you are nagging me." 

Suddenly, Aunt Vanessa's eyes swept up to me and Mother's eyes swept up to my companion. The two of them were surprised. They looked at each other with confused faces. 

"Do you two know each other?" Aunt Vanessa asked.

The young man answered, "We just met, actually." I nodded.

The of them apparently knew something that we didn't know. Mother was smiling amusedly. "My goodness I simply cannot believe that you two _just_ met." 

Aunt Vanessa was now smiling too. "Ah yes…!" 

Mother grabbed my shoulders and faced me to the young man. Aunt Vanessa was also holding him in the shoulders and facing him to me. 

"Son," Aunt Vanessa started. _Son?_ My jaw dropped. "This is Catleya of Kyrria." 

"Daughter," Mother said. At the word daughter, the young man's face was also like mine: surprised. "This is Tristan of Ayortha." 

I looked at him and he looked at me. I knew he was also analyzing the occurrence right now. He was probably wondering, _No, this cannot be Catleya, the scrawny wench who punched me in the nose! _Well, I was thinking about something too. He couldn't be Tristan. Tristan was a short annoying imp who could only formulate sentences to insult people. This young man was tall and lean. Tristan had an irritating mask instead of a face. This young man had handsome features that bore no resemblance to the boy I knew. But then…those eyes…

I curtsied. "Pleased to be of your acquaintance again, Prince Tristan," I said. Deep inside, I was screaming. This could not be the boy that used to invoke murderous thoughts! But I had to face the truth. This was him. 

He bowed. "Delighted to meet you once more, Princess Catleya." The eyes were the mirror to the soul, and in his eyes I could see horror, shock, and actual _delight_. I noticed him looking at me, up and down. He must be wondering whether I was an imposter or not.

I could say that our emotions right now were mimetic to each other. We were both surprised and horrified that our nemesis was transformed into another person. 

_Years before_

_Children playing_

_Years after_

_Adults talking_

_We've changed_

_From children_

_To adults_

_Days later_

_Who knows?_

~*~

I hope this chapter answered some questions! ÜÜÜ

Ok, so Tristan's there…uh huh…so what should you expect?

Please do not expect any grotesque images of the two of them trying to kill each other!

ÜÜÜ

Although it would sound nice…

Ehehehe…

Well, OBVIOUSLY I got the homecoming song from the book but I added some parts

It sounded incomplete…

And the other unfamiliar songs are made by me…

Yes, I'm not a great POET but deal with it… 

And the weird language that no one happens to understand,

Is made up by me!!! Of course!!!!

What's it called, you'll know in the other chapters…mwahaha…right, like I'll tell that important detail!!!

ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ

I plan to put more background on the world of Ella. 

I realized that the original didn't give much information about the culture, situation, society, etc.

So I decided to make up stuff!

And since we're dealing with an intelligent character, it would be easy to add the inventions there.

ÜÜÜ 

Oki…Claidi's shutting up now…

But thank you so much to the reviewers!!! And thanks for the constructive criticisms!!

I promise to do my VERY best in this fic

Because I want it to sound more serious and mature

Than What If. 

ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ

And remember! SMILE!!!

And by the way, it's Cat-LEI-Ya 

Or at least that's how **_I_** pronounce it… ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ


	4. Sings

In Ayortha, sings were held more frequently than balls. It was because of the culture of Ayortha. Ayorthaians treasured their voices more than their grace on the dance floor. There were many songs for each particular occasion. That was the reason why the songs of tonight's celebration were all about homecoming, travel, and nature. There was a ball afterwards but the singing was the highlight of the evening. 

The celebration was, of course, for Tristan. It had been a day since our confusing meeting. Tonight was the celebration for his return. All the Ayorthaians were invited for the sings. There were performers. Many volunteered to perform for Tristan. It didn't occur to me that he could be so popular, being the way he was to me when we were young. 

I had not yet gotten over completely how Tristan the imp became Tristan the prince. I suspected that he too had not yet gotten over me being the way I was now in comparison to before. Last night during dinner, when we were all supposed to eat together, I couldn't even look at him. Unfortunately, he was directly in front of me. Father and Mother were both having a delightful time with Uncle Orono and Aunt Vanessa. Ettore and Adara were not speaking, as usual. Tristan also tried not to let his eyes fall on me. We were both quite uncomfortable in each other's company. Maybe it was because we still couldn't believe we had changed, or maybe it was because we were practicing the customs of Ayorthaian nobility.

Before the celebration, Aunt Vanessa called me to her room. I knew what was on her mind. It was confirmed when I stepped in her room and she ran to me, dragging me out of the doorway and leading me to her dressing room. 

"Catleya!" she said. "I am so glad that you came! You know what I'm going to do to you." 

Yesterday she told me that tomorrow was the ball and that she wanted me to be her masterpiece. She only thought of the ball because during sings, a person was not really judged by her looks but by her voice. 

 "Must I really come through this?" I asked. Submissiveness was not a special trait of mine. To be frank, I would rather not go along with Aunt Vanessa. The only reason why I was agreeing to it was because of pure courtesy. All my life I was taught to be courteous and my lessons had rubbed in on me.

 "Good. Now, I want you to pick one of three colors. Violet, white, or red."  

I never really had a favorite color. Mother said that when I was twelve, I was obsessed with the color blue. She said that every gown I owned was the color blue and I insisted blue on everything. I perfectly remembered the closet filled with blue clothes. The abundant number of blue gowns in my closet was proof. 

Then, the color lavender. I recalled that I steadfastly refused the color of be labeled purple or violet or pink. It had to be _lavender. My explanation was because lavender was the mixture of powder pink and violet, which was contrary to the mixture of violet which was blue and red. It was also contrary to the mixture of pink, which was red and white. _

I supposed that it was better I didn't had a favorite color because I tend to go to the extreme, like what happened when I liked blue. Fortunately, right now, there was no definite color in my mind. Now, it really depended on what the occasion was. 

"Violet?" My answer was more of a question.

Aunt Vanessa smiled broadly and went to one of the closets. She pulled out a violet gown. "I've been saving this for you, and only you. It's pretty isn't it?"

I studied the gown she held up. It was pretty, yet pretty was an understatement. The neckline was square with flowers embroidered at the hem. The skirt was not so voluminous. The bodice was in a lighter shade of violet (or something more like lavender) than the sleeves and the skirt. The sleeves were slit and revealed a darker colored cloth underneath. I touched the material; it was silk. 

"It's too rich for me," I told her humbly.

Aunt Vanessa was indignant. "What?? My dear, your humility is more of an impediment. It's _not_ too rich for you. _You're_ too rich for it." 

"I'm not!" I retorted. Then I shut up. Even though I _was_ rebellious and contrariness was natural to me, I preferred to keep it under control. 

She glared at me. "No, no, no. Wear this and I will fix your hair." 

"Why do you want me to look so pretty anyway? I could do this myself," I protested. 

"Because…" Aunt Vanessa's voice was in a tone that meant _listen and don't answer back OR ELSE._ "I want you to be my special project. Catleya, when you become a young princess you will find out that every occasion in your life is important. Balls and sings are as important as comings-of-age." 

"It's not like I'm going to chase after anybody…" I muttered under my breath. Good thing Aunt Vanessa didn't here, else I would be in trouble. 

She pushed me behind a dressing screen. She handed the gown to me. I was scowling at her. "Dress up alright? And about your...I'll deal with that after." 

When I put on the dress, I didn't want to take it off. It felt so soft against the skin and the gown felt like it was especially made only for me. I stepped out of the screen and Aunt Vanessa sighed. 

"Good. Now for your hair. I simply cannot believe that you would just leave it flowing behind your back without the merest adornments! Can't you at least use a headband?" 

I didn't like putting adornments in my hair. I thought it a burden to look at myself in the mirror, checking if my hair looked fine. And then, I would have to crane my neck just to see the hair was properly fixed. Sometimes, I tied my hair in a hasty ponytail, not caring whether this particular strand was standing up or not in place. I did use headbands but not often. If the wind was strong and practically blew my hair in all directions, I would fix it but then how frequent was strong wind?

Aunt Vanessa fixed my hair herself. Before she could start, I already knew what she had in mind but then, Aunt Vanessa was unpredictable. She was fixing my hair into a braid but instead of separating it into the usual three sections, she only separated two. I saw her retrieve a long ribbon the color of lavender (yes, I still refused to call lavender purple even though it wasn't my favorite color). She tied it to my hair, and I thought she was done with me. But she wasn't. She braided my hair with the ribbon. And when she did finish, my hairstyle was unique: a long solitary braid interlocking ribbon and hair.

Even though I was already done with the gown and hair, Aunt Vanessa was adamant about face paint. I looked at her with horror because I didn't like to put paint on my face. I had once tried applying face paint, on the ball of my sixteenth birthday. My face felt like there was another layer of uncomfortable skin on it. And I was frequently worried about the paint getting smudged. I also had a hard time taking it off. It seemed to have hardened on my face, refusing to leave its new home. When I finally got it off, my face was red from the scrubbing and itchy with a slight allergy. 

Although face paint was fashionable among nobility throughout the kingdoms, I swore never to use them again. Besides, it was not _all fashionable. In a span of twenty years, fashion had changed very much. During Father and Mother's time, face paint was fashionable in the eastern kingdoms and to traveling foreigners or gypsies but not popular in Kyrria and Ayortha. The ladies of the court soon dabbled on eastern fashion and decided to practice the usage of face paint. It was like a disease that went from lady to lady, and eventually, every lady who wanted to look exceptionally beautiful practiced it. Well, one could look beautiful using face paint but if the intent was too look ghastly, then it could be fulfilled. But if that lady really didn't know how to apply the paint, most likely she would look unpleasantly wrong. Many ladies were rejuvenated using only a brush with some colored powder, yet I didn't need it. My face was young and was only burdened with the things that made other women lovely. And I didn't want my face to have rashes like before._

I explained all this to Aunt Vanessa, and her crestfallen face made me feel guilty. I knew all to well that she was only sad because she wasn't able to play with me thoroughly. Yet she insisted that I put a little color on my lips and then she would be happy.

"You don't need rouge on your cheeks. Your cheeks are already noticeably roseate against your pale skin," she said.

I allowed her to do so. Pretty soon, she asked me to stand up and show to her what she had done. She was beaming at me. 

"You reminded me when I was still your age," she told me. Then she smirked, "But then, I was enthusiastic." 

She looked me over one more time then let me go. It was already quarter to six, and the celebration would start at six. I decided to stay in my room for awhile. I didn't want to go to the celebration too early. They might think I was too enthusiastic. I especially didn't want my parents think I was enthusiastic to see Tristan. 

I stared outside my window. I couldn't see much point in looking at the rooftops. Night was already arriving, and it was clouding Ayortha with darkness. There was nothing to see. I averted my stare unto the right of my window. I could see lights and people walking. Flowers were being carried from one place to another. Last-minute preparations were being conducted. 

Why was there so much fuss on Tristan? I must have closed my ears to whatever news considering him. He couldn't be all that mean now. I had changed and so did he. He must have learned a lot from his travels. 

I looked at the clock. It was already six. Father wanted me to be there punctually. It was because our presence would be officially acknowledged by the whole of Ayortha. By this he meant that we would have to be in a parade of royals, waving our hands and smiling. My humility might be too much but I believed that I was already princess and many knew that; I didn't have to flaunt it. Mother disliked doing this. She was truly the most unconventional queen. She didn't like showing to the people how great she was. It was because she felt like it was demanding adoration from them. Mother didn't like unnecessary ostentatiousness. 

I frowned. I wasn't about to present myself to public scrutiny. If my defiance would anger Father, let him be angry! I wasn't about to do something ridiculous just to showcase myself. 

The celebration was going to be the highlight of my visit to Ayortha. I felt bad that Owen wouldn't be able to be there. Where was he anyway? Mother sent him a letter, but what if he really didn't receive it. That would be terrible! 

There was a knock on my door. 

It was a young squire. He ogled at me. I was confused, actually, on what he was doing there. Luftmensch… He stared at me as if I was on display, and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

"Sir? What are you doing here?" I demanded. I was cross, suddenly. 

He suddenly was alert. He bowed deeply. "I was asked to escort you, your Highness." 

He gave me his hand but I didn't take it. "Please tell those who are concerned of your escorting me that I will come down by myself in a while." 

"But your Highness, their Highnesses King Charmont and Queen Ella wish to see you as soon as possible." 

I shook my head. His whole sentence irritated me. There were too many _Highnesses_ in it. "They will understand my delay. You may now go." 

I could see in his eyes the bafflement he was feeling. He bowed uneasily and left.

Father would be vexed with me, and so would Mother but Mother would be proud that I would not allow myself for display. She encouraged me to speak my mind and be myself. She would be lenient with me. 

In the celebration below, I could hear the herald declare their names.

King Orono.

Queen Vanessa.

Prince Ettore.

Princess Adara.

King Charmont.

Queen Ella.

He pronounced Father, Mother, and Aunt Vanessa's names. Father became King Echarmont. Mother became Queen Elle, although it was alright because Elle was the Ayorthaian counterpart of Ella. Aunt Vanessa's name became Avanessa. 

Tristan was not called of course. He would have the grand entrance.

When his name was called, I stood up and went down. The halls and corridors were empty. They were all in the celebration. I could here the Ayorthaians singing the homecoming song. 

Oak, granite 

_Lilies by the road,_

_Remember me?_

_I remember you._

_Clouds brushing_

_Clover hills,_

_Remember me?_

_Sister, child, _

_Grown tall,_

_Remember me?_

_I remember you._

I sang along softly. The walls echoed my voice. When I reached the celebration, the song had ended and they have started singing a new song. It was a funny song this time. It was about a boy who shot an arrow on the air and looked up, only to find that it had not returned back down. He didn't realize that the arrow had already come down and struck itself on his hat. Ignorance was bliss after all. 

When I arrived at the celebration, I saw that the audience was applauding the singers. My parents were upfront with the Ayorthaian sovereigns. I could see their heads. Mother's head was thrown back in laughter. Father was laughing along with her, but he didn't laugh so ostentatiously. The others must have heard the song before because their reaction was not as flamboyant as Mother's. I smiled. Mother was always outspoken with her every action. 

All the spectators were seated and I didn't want to disturb them. I decided to hang out at the back. I was the only one standing there. I supposed that it was kind of depressing: me, a princess of Kyrria, standing at the back while all the others were sitting. But I didn't mind much. 

A new song began. This time, it was more melodramatic that the previous one. It was that way in Ayorthaian culture. A happy light song was prior to a heavier and emotional song. It was to prepare the audience. After the emotional song, another happy song would follow, to lighten up the mood of the listeners. I preferred listening to the heavier songs, although some people were far too affected by it. Songs speak truth through melodies and fiction, but though the truth is shrouded it would always affect a person.

_Your footsteps come to me_

_Yet you are far from me_

_Your voice whispers in my ear_

_But screams cannot make me hear you_

_You eyes gaze at my soul_

_Although your eyes have turned away from me_

_You are no longer here_

_But your presence lingers_

_You are here_

_With me_

_And though you are gone_

_Away from my arms_

_I will never not see you_

_Never not__ hear you_

_Never not__ feel you_

_Never not completely__ let you go_

_(A/N: I demand poetic license! Yes the negation use is appalling but POETIC LISENCE!!)_

I noticed Mother look back at me. She was signaling something with her hands but I couldn't understand her. She seemed like she was waving at the air. I mistook her sign language for "Come here". I went to her, saying excuse me, almost stepping on people's feet, and feeling my face redden with embarrassment. 

Mother was furious I came. "Why did you come?" 

I was crouched beside her chair, peering up at her like a puppy begging for food. "You said you wanted me here!" 

"I said leave!" 

"Why?" 

Mother threw up her hands in exasperation. "Quick before your father—" 

"Catleya?" Father leaned from Mother's right side.

 I swore my face lost all its color. It was not because Father's face was threatening, which it was not. He was actually grinning. I paled because Mother's face was pure horror. Father had something in mind and I feared it had something to do with me.

"Why weren't here early?" 

I opened my mouth to speak. "I had a slight migraine…" I lied.

Father was not convinced. "Catleya. Orono suggested that since you are the guest of honor, you must present a song. With my consent of course. I could have said no but then, since you didn't come, I will have to tell him that after the last singer you will perform a song." 

My mouth dropped. I knew that my actions would lead something more terrible. Why didn't I foresee it? Of course Father always gave out subtle punishments to his children. Once, when I deliberately skipped Language class to read in the library, instead of depriving me of the library, he said, "Since you love books so much, therefore read this whole section. Finish it by the end of the month." He gestured at the Philosophical section of the library. I was still a mere twelve-year old girl. I loved reading but reading all those books that were redundant was unbearable. I couldn't understand half of what I read. The punishment was fitting because I wanted to read books so he gave me books. I could have hated him by then but I knew better. It was my entire fault.

"You can't do this to me!" I retorted.

"But I am doing this to you, so I suggest that you go to a corner and think of what you will sing," he pointed out.

Mother was slightly grinning. "I wanted you to leave because he told me that if you came near us during the sings, he would make you sing. Don't worry, Catleya. You have a beautiful voice." 

I chastised myself for not coming. I would bear the parading but not the singing! Yet I did what Father told me to do; I went to a corner and thought of a song. I decided to sing one of the love songs. 

Sometimes, Mother sang this for me while I was a child. She said that it was my song, and should be especially sung for me. It was because the song had lines that reminded her of my name: Catleya. The title was "Flowers Bearing My Name". It was a love song. 

In the corner, I sang to myself the song. I wanted to make it sound beautiful to me and to the Ayorthaians, especially. If I were to sing in front of an audience, then I would, but mind you, I would not embarrass myself by giving a lousy show. I wanted to make them listen with awe and when I was done, they would stand up and applaud for me. Their applauding would ease the humiliation I would feel. 

One of the Ayorthaians stood up and introduced me. He said that it was a great honor that the princess of Kyrria would be gracing them with a song. He beckoned me to come. I felt all their eyes on me. Once in a while, I heard some murmurs. What were they telling each other? Uncle Orono and Aunt Vanessa were beaming at me. Ettore and Adara clearly showed anticipation in their faces. Father was smiling at me, and I swore Mother was laughing a little. I couldn't blame her; I was practically miserable up here. I could see Tristan smiling. He must be wondering what good I would be. I was determined enough to show them all I could sing, and not just sing—but sing beautifully. 

My determination was incredible in times of dire need. If I pushed myself to do something, I would not only succeed, I would excel in it. 

_Give them to me_

_Flowers bearing my name_

_Tinge with oranges_

_Splashed with yellows_

_Painted with white_

_Present my name_

_In a bouquet_

_With a violet silk ribbon _

_And a note written in your own hand _

_Those three special words_

_I long to hear for so long_

When the last note left my lips, everyone was standing, and they were applauding. 

~*~

I'm sorry this chapter took eons to upload! I've been very busy. There's a debate coming (Debate is a love-hate relationship. I love it for doing it but I hate it for the time it takes) and I'm part of the research committee. I have to research about it because the format is Oregon-Oxford, and it's prepared. ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ Ok…I'm talking nonsense. And third year is HECTIC! My goodness, I might just kill myself! I really do try to find time to write stories! I mean it!!! I am really sorry!!!!!!!

I hope you like this chapter!! The last chapter was entitled An Exotic Colorful Bird because Catleya described Ayortha as "an exotic colorful bird with a harmonious song" I didn't add "with a harmonious song" because it was too long. ÜÜÜÜÜÜ

BTW, I also uploaded an essay! Ü It's really stupid in a way but I want to preserve it! The teacher said it was good anyway, although I only got an 8/10. Do you know why?? Because I forgot to put quotation marks! JUST FOR THAT MEASLEY MISTAKE!!! 

And thank you to all the reviewers! I love you all for reviewing!! ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ


	5. Foreboding

Dancing had always been a talent of mine. But at this time, this ball, and this moment, I was not in the mood to dance. When I looked at all the couples dancing the gavotte in the ball, I didn't see myself dancing with them, let alone dance with someone. Maybe it was because I didn't see the point of dancing when I had already showcased myself as a singer. It was not because my head had grown because of applauds (although I must admit that it was rather flattering) but it was because I didn't feel like it. When you dance, you dance with someone you actually wanted to dance with, not with someone who happened to be available. Here in this ball, I anticipated a dance from no one. Indeed, I expected someone to ask, but no, not anticipate. These were two different things.  
  
I would rather trade my grace for Mother's clumsiness (well, she was!) just to have someone I actually wanted to dance with. Mother was not the best dancer but every time she danced with Father, she would be more than graceful: she was ethereal with an ecstatic smile on her face. Father was already a great dancer, but then of course, he was much better with Mother. It surprised me how much my parents complimented each other in one way or another.  
  
Someone asked me for a dance. I accepted. Strange, was I? I didn't have anything do.  
  
It was a gavotte. In the middle of the dance, I twined arms with other people. Eventually, I ended twining my arms with the person I knew I abhorred when I was young, but not quite so sure now. It must have been a pleasant surprise to be twining arms with Tristan, who asked why a million times just to annoy me.  
  
We just smiled at each other, an indifferent acknowledgement to past acquaintances. But deep inside, I was frantic. For most of the time, I knew why I was in some state, but right now, I haven't the faintest idea why I was so affected with his presence.  
  
When the dance ended, I went to one corner and watched.  
  
"Catleya."  
  
I turned and saw him. I wasn't surprised. I knew that this moment was bound to happen. I knew that we would have to confront each other once again.  
  
"Tristan," I replied. "I was expecting this."  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. "I too, except that I expected that you would be the one approaching me."  
  
I smirked. "It's not my fault if you ruined your own expectations."  
  
He ignored me, like before. "I didn't expect you to turn out like this, though."  
  
"Same here. Five years is a long time interval. But then, of course, I don't know if you truly did change."  
  
He laughed. "And you are still impertinent."  
  
"And you are still a prejudice." I eyed him squarely.  
  
"Five years, Catleya, and you've only changed in appearance. If you weren't so contemptuous, then I might have said you're almost perfect, from what I've heard," he grinned. I knew what he was talking about; I was not daft. He must have heard of the ostensible "Flower of Kyrria" or Olaro ana Akyrria" or whatever kind of translation he had come across to during his travels. Well then, he was mistaken.  
  
"What you've heard is false. Tristan, I know all to well that you didn't believe a word of it when you heard. And mind you, I am not exactly proud of that," I answered.  
  
He nodded. "I did didn't believe of it when I first heard it in-of all the places-Porsta." Porsta was a far eastern kingdom. I understood why he was so shocked. Porsta was basically cut from almost all communication, considering that it was established in a plateau. The news reaching there was indeed impressive. Though not flattering for me. "And then I would have to hear it in the other kingdoms as well. Although, I wasn't convinced, I suppose I should be now."  
  
I glared at him. "Where are you coming at? I was trusting that you wouldn't succumb to this unbelievable plague."  
  
He laughed. "You want that plague to spread."  
  
My face must have looked so fierce. "How dare you do that? To judge me once again, and to try me without proper approach. At least I have changed in mind and judgment, whilst you didn't."  
  
I turned on the heel of my shoe and left him there. Of all the types of people in the world, I disliked chauvinistic type. It didn't matter whether he was handsome or courageous. Frankly, I thought he was so ungallant even though people say he was. He wasn't in the position to tell me things. He wasn't worthy enough to actually give me a tirade. And what did he care anyway? The best thing that we could at least do for both our sake was to ignore each other and be indifferent. If we hated each other, Kyrria and Ayortha might be drag in, no matter how narrow the odds were.  
  
I whispered a curse under my breath. It was not my character to use such colorful language, but then, who was there to listen? I walked to one of the balconies of the hall.  
  
The air was cool and refreshing. The scent of the temple flowers was in the wind. The wisterias, cypresses, and willows subtly swayed with the breeze.  
  
This moment could be so perfect if only Tristan didn't follow me.  
  
"What do you want?" I snapped.  
  
I couldn't really see his face, but then, I could feel the remorse from him. I supposed he came here to apologize.  
  
"I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said that," he said. But I could hear some hesitation from him.  
  
"Guess?" I asked him. "There is no room for guesses."  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. "Do you always have to be this way?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"So assertive and pushy."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"You are. You deny it."  
  
I sighed. "If I am then I am. I don't care. And having you care is the least of my concerns." I leaned on the balcony.  
  
He came beside me. "Let me say something first." He cleared his throat. "I propose a treaty. We won't argue or fight like before, unless we would want to embarrass ourselves. We will start anew, as if we just met each other. Do you agree?"  
  
I glanced at him. He seemed sincere with this "treaty". Yes, I did want a treaty. I did want to start anew. I felt that he was someone different now, someone actually worth knowing. And nothing would happen if we would continue arguing, even if we just started. "I agree. We got of in a bad start when we were kids."  
  
"Fine," he replied.  
  
"Fine."  
  
~*~  
  
We kept our treaty well. We treated each other as if we just knew each other, and I must say that it surprised me that we got along rather well. Arguments were not avoidable because everyone argues, but we didn't argue in such a way that we insulted each other. We argued like.intelligent people, I supposed. We didn't fight, certainly. If we did, then there would be no treaty. Pretty soon, we were actually enjoying each other's company! It surprised me also how much he had changed. He was no longer the imp I claimed him to be. I realized that he was now a more reasonable and intelligent person than before. He didn't use his intellect to insult people like before. I came to realize that repartees were natural to him, although it must be leveled down.  
  
Both our mothers noticed our friendliness towards each other. Aunt Vanessa clearly showed her delight over this. She kept on telling me that it was good that we weren't torturing each other with juvenile pranks. She was also glad that we weren't indifferent to each other. Mother wasn't as brazen as Aunt Vanessa. While Tristan and I were speaking with each other (yes, we weren't screaming out our lungs) on one occasion, I caught a sly smile on Mother. Later that day, she spoke with me. She said that she was pleased with me. "I wasn't very anxious of being an arbitrator of your fights like before," she said with relief.  
  
Ayortha had never been so welcoming now that my archenemy was now something close to a friend. But inside, I was still troubled and rather sad. Owen was still not here.  
  
Day after day, I wondered where he was. Surely, he got the letter of Mother. Surely, he wouldn't reject the invitation. Owen liked going to Ayortha. He got along well with Tristan before, although I didn't. He also enjoyed going around Ayortha. And certainly he wouldn't want to let the Sings pass! He loved listening to the voices of Ayorthaians.  
  
On night, my parents called me. The maid who called me said it was imperative that I speak with them now. We were in the library. Mother was sitting in one of the armchairs, face ashen. Father was standing up and pacing furiously. He constantly ran his hand through his hair.  
  
The last time I saw them like this was when I was sick to death with a fever. I was still thirteen, and a plague was sweeping across Kyrria. I was one of the unfortunate ones to have gotten it. The symptoms were sore throat, sneezing, and fever. My fever was higher than all the others affected. Everyone thought I was about to die. But thankfully, a healer from a distant land came. She knew the cure to this plague. She treated me first, and after two days, I was well. I didn't even see her face or thanked her. When I was well enough to stand, she was no longer in Kyrria.  
  
But my family was affected. Father would come, and he tried with all his powers to find someone who could heal me. Owen was there beside me too. He made me laugh when I was sick. He said, "Laughter is the best medicine so keep on laughing even though it doesn't make sense!" Mother was constantly by my side, whispering prayers. Sometimes, she would just curse herself for not being such a good mother. What scared her most was that she lost her own mother to a sickness. She was not about to lose me too, she said.  
  
"What's wrong?" I asked.  
  
Mother looked at me with such worry that it made me sick with anxiety too. Father couldn't even look at me. It made me relive the days of my fever.  
  
"Catleya, promise me that you will stay calm," he said to me.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Please, Catleya," Mother implored. "I don't want you to worry like me." She smiled weakly. "It is not healthy." I realized that this was something crucial, something so big that it could make my worriless mother disturbed. She was sitting in the armchair, hand on her mouth.  
  
"Who else knows of this?" I asked.  
  
"For now, the Ayorthaian royal family. I don't want you to worry also. It's just that.Owen will return, safe and sound. But the fact of the matter is," Father paused, "the group of knights Owen was traveling with was assaulted."  
  
My breath was caught in my throat. "But.where is he?" I asked. I could feel a sob tearing my throat, wanting to break free. My heart was already panicking, beating faster and faster, and cold dread was in my stomach.  
  
Father came to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. Only then did I realize that I was shaking. "Do not worry, Catleya. He is coming soon. He is now in Bast. In three days he will be here."  
  
"Who did it?" My voice was void and tuneless.  
  
He shook his head. "No one knows. They escaped before they were captured. Yes, there were about two held captive, but they killed themselves before they were interrogated."  
  
No matter how many comforting words Father said to me, I still couldn't get the worry out of my head. What if they followed him to Bast? What if some poison was planted in his drink? What if they come to Bast to kill him? Involuntarily, my mind conjured up possible dangers. He could be poisoned, strangled, stabbed, even trampled to death! So many things could happen to my dear brother! Bast was not a safe place! And what if there was a traitor amidst him?  
  
I was still blank with worry when I went out of the library. Father sent me out. He wanted me to go to my room and rest. He must have seen my face grow pale and empty. This was usually my facial expression when I was distressed. My face would feel cold, and I would cease showing my emotions. I would seem as if on a trance, as if I was blank, when in truth I really wasn't.  
  
When I came out, Mother said to Father something that wasn't intended for my ears.  
  
"Char, it is good that we had not told her that Owen was almost killed." Her voice was grief-stricken.  
  
I uttered a small cry. My back was on the wall and I was sobbing softly. He was in danger! Owen meant so much to me. He was my brother, and even though some brothers and sisters didn't get along well, we did. We knew each other's secrets. We knew each other's weaknesses and strengths. When Father and Mother were angry with me because of my brash actions, I came to him for comfort. He was always there for me, and if he were to be gone suddenly, I wouldn't take it. I understood why Father didn't tell me this. He knew that I would be more frantic than Mother, knowing that I was closer to Owen than any other member of the family. He knew that I might ride all the way to Bast just to ensure his safety.  
  
I breathed in and out. Calm down, I told myself. Calm down.  
  
Owen could take care of himself. He was strong, he was great. He would return, even if there were people.who were trying to kill him.  
  
But I had this troubling feeling. Somehow, I knew that this was inevitable. Somehow, I was expecting this. I tried to remember how I came to this, and I came to a memory that had happened days ago. It was when I fainted. I immediately looked at the ring on my finger. It was still there, a gleaming silver band with the emerald with an iridescent green flame.  
  
I shook my head. Of course not. Certainly not.  
  
I walked all alone in the corridor. The sound of my footsteps bounced back from the walls. I was suddenly feeling cold for some reason.  
  
I passed by one of the rooms. Inside, I could hear cries of surprise. It was a feminine cry. I realized that it was Aunt Vanessa. I leaned at the wall and strained my ears to listen. The people inside were speaking in Ayorthaian. I thanked Mother for teaching me this language.  
  
"It can't be," Aunt Vanessa was saying. "Are you sure, Orono? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes," he replied. "A letter was received from Owen himself, stating his circumstances."  
  
It was now Tristan's voice who spoke. "Father, we must send people to Bast now, to accompany him on his way back. Who knows what else could happen?"  
  
If I was inside the same room, I could have embraced Tristan for suggesting that. Yes! Send more people so he would safer!  
  
I was so intent it listening; it didn't matter to me that eavesdropping was discouraged.  
  
"Papa." a soft voice said. I had to strain my ears harder to hear her. I realized that it was Adara. "Someone is listening."  
  
My jaw dropped. How could she know I was just outside the door? I quickly regained my senses and ran away from the door. I didn't go to my room. I went instead to the gardens.  
  
I was in the Orchid garden again. And I was also gazing at the cattleya.  
  
I could hear footsteps coming my way. I turned around and saw Tristan.  
  
"You were the one who was listening," he accused me.  
  
Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to deny my actions. "Yes, I was. So?"  
  
"Nothing. It's understandable anyway." He stopped. "And don't get me wrong. I'm also worried for your brother."  
  
"Of course you were," I scoffed. "I heard you."  
  
"Your tone suggests that I shouldn't have," he bluntly told me.  
  
I suddenly wanted to bite back my tongue. He was right. My tone seemed to be ungrateful of his actions, when in truth, I really was. "I'm sorry. It's just that.I'm sick with worry right now. You don't know how Owen means to me. He is my brother."  
  
"I do know," he replied. "That's why I told my father that."  
  
I stared at him, baffled. He suggested that because he knew Owen meant a lot to me? It didn't make sense.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
~*~  
  
It's been AGES! I KNOW! It's just that I am so busy!! I have trainings on  
weekdays and debates on weekends!  
  
And our final exams are nearing!!! X-(  
  
I could die right now.  
  
I'm sorry if this chapter isn't as good as all the others! It's just that I  
crammed all this in one day just so I won't keep you waiting!!  
  
But then, I hope you like it!!  
  
Thanks so much to all the reviewers!! You make this fic a success!!  
  
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 


	6. Aida, The Water Maiden

~*~

Some say I am lucky to be the daughter of the great rulers Char and Ella, and the brother of the valiant Owen. But who am I compared to them and their fulfilled deeds? I am lucky but I am overshadowed. Who is Catleya?

~*~

Those three days were one of the worst days of my life. I kept on thinking what would happen in those three days. In those three days, Owen was in danger. He could be killed, assaulted once again. Who knows how determined his assailants were? Mother was right; worrying was unhealthy. Another cause of my anxiety was Tristan. His actions befuddled me, making my thoughts for him nebulous. What were his real intentions? Surely, my childhood enemy would not just do anything _too_ beneficial for my part. Certainly, he would be content in sympathizing for me, but not actually doing anything as significant as that. I also worried about my parents. 

Father went with the group of knights who came to fetch Owen. He was concerned about Owen's state but I knew he was more concerned with the fact that someone tried to kill him. I knew that Father recognized Owen's ability with regards to combat; he was confident that if anyone wanted to do away with him, that person would have to try his very best, and his very best could not even outmatch that of Owen's. Father knew that the real issue was the motive. Someone was drastic enough to try and attempt to kill his sovereign. During his reign, discontent was a rarity in Kyrria. The assault to Owen meant that someone was more than discontented. 

When Father left, Mother was driven more into worry. She worried about her son, and now she worried about her husband too. I felt that the burden of worrying was laid upon my mother's shoulders, she being the queen, wife, and mother. She thought about her kingdom, and at the same time she was bothered about the recent events regarding her son. With Father's departure, another concern was added to her. 

But fortunately, I came to the conclusion that the only solution to this was for me to think of "happy" thoughts. It sounded childish and dim-witted but yes, this was the only way to get out of this. Instead of thinking of Owen's probable danger, I thought of his return. I would imagine him, riding on horseback, next to Father, without a scratch on him. Father and Owen would soon tell Mother and me that everything was fine, and that this situation was something we could handle. Sometimes, it made me sick when I thought of this. Somehow, I felt that it was the men able to go out on adventures, while the women waited for their return. As for Tristan, I convinced myself entirely that it was all an act of friendship, and also an act of reparation for his past evil deeds to me. I also willed myself to ease the burden of Mother. I hid all my worry underneath vivaciousness and smiles. If I let it out, she would soon be worried of me. For some reason, I was scared that she would worry herself to death. 

My "happy" thoughts were effective. I was not as anxious as before, though I was still. I didn't know how I survived those three days of foreshadowing. On the third day, I retreated to the library. 

During the past days, I did what a visiting princess did; I toured the kingdom, courtesy of Tristan. He showed me all the new sites that were instigated during the five-year interval. There were new monuments, for one. There was one I particularly liked. It was located near the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. Underneath was the jagged rocks and crashing waves. When I was there, I could smell the salty air and the hear the sounds of the sea, something I have not encountered for so long since Kyrria was located in the middle of everything. The only water forms there were rivers, streams, lakes, and ponds. The statue was made out of bronze. It was the sculpture of a mermaid. When I looked at her, I could only say she was beautiful. Her hazel-shaped eyes were looking at the sea, and I could sense some longing in them—long for the sea, I supposed. Her features were carefully molded, from the cherubic lips to the shapely body. It was a work of art that should not be exposed to such harsh elements like the sea. There was a plaque at the bottom with Aida, an Ayothaian word meaning water maiden, engraved on it with flourishing calligraphy.

"Why is this statue here?" I asked Tristan. Most of the time, the statues were of past rulers or famous historical icons. 

He was still gazing at the statue. "You were supposed to be knowledgeable," he accused me. 

I scowled at him. "What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Everything," he replied. "Did it ever occur to you where the origins of the word _aida are?" _

"Of course I do. It came from the word _naida, a Kenesan term for mermaid or water maiden." _

He smirked. "Well, you're right but you're wrong. _Naida and __Aida are not just terms but mermaids of the same legend. This was the legend where the popular fairytale was derived from." _

Of course I knew of the fairytale. It was all about a mermaid, defying her father and becoming a human. She went to the sea-witch just to be one. The reason behind was because she loved a human prince, who she saved once. The only way to achieve his love was to become a human also. Unfortunately, her voice was lost along with her tail. She was a mute, and could not speak to the prince at all. The prince could not love her because he could only love the person who saved him. Ironically, the person who did was right beside him, but he refused to love her. Sadly, she couldn't tell him the truth so the prince married a princess. The mermaid was heartbroken and killed herself. When she killed herself, only then did the prince realized it was her all along. I admired the protagonist and I basically hated the prince for being so _thick_. 

"Now, the connection with this is because the legendary ties of Ayortha and Keneisha are actually interlocked. Naida and Aida are actually the names of the mermaid in the tale. This meant that somehow, the ancestors of Keneisha and Ayortha are related. Maybe they were friends, cousins, no one knows. When Keneisha and Ayortha had this minor disagreement," he paused. 

"Of course I know about it," I scoffed. "Owen was directly associated with that instance." 

"I thought you didn't, considering the fact that you only think that _naida_ is Kenesan." 

I placed my hands on my hips. "Are you going to continue or no? If not, then I might as well push you down the cliff, as you are wasting my time." 

He eyed me squarely. "You can't do that," he said firmly. Then he continued with his explanation. "This statue was put up to symbolize the bonds of Ayortha and Keneisha. It would serve as a reminder that Ayortha and Keneisha once shared a past with each other. This also means that they should share the present and future. Do you understand?" 

I nodded. "Of course. It is like the statue in the middle of Ayortha and Kyrria." In my mind, the statue of Vaia appeared. It was not like the Aida statue. It was actually abstract, more like a sculpture than a statue. It was a monument of a tree in the sea. The tree was the symbolism for Kyrria because Kyrria was agriculturally linked. It was also because Kyrria had many forests. The sea was the representation for Ayortha because Ayortha was a maritime kingdom, considering that it was next to the Agua Sea. The tree growing in the sea meant that Ayortha and Kyrria was not one, but two separate kingdoms, although connected with each other. 

I turned to him, frowning. "But, what if it doesn't last? A statue after all, is but a statue. No one knows if this statue could actually prevent something from happening." 

"No one knows if it could prevent something. It is, after all, just a reminder and a statue" 

We were both quiet for sometime. I was thinking that maybe the statues weren't just there to serve as reminders for the nation, but also to the rulers. The rulers were also the representatives of their own respective kingdoms. 

"You shouldn't really have accompanied me in going around Ayortha. It must be so redundant for you to see these things, again and again," I said to him.

"But you've forgotten that I was away from my home for two years." He was still gazing at the statue. He looked so meditative and introspective. He was lost in his own thoughts, and I had already evaporated into thin air, an evanescent. 

When I looked at him, it was in that exact moment that I thought he could even be more than a friend.  

~*~

On the third day, I was on pins and needles. I woke up when the sun was not yet in the horizon, and paced around in my bedroom. I was always like this. If I was anxious, I always woke up earlier than the usual. Certainly, I was more anxious now. If Father and Owen were a day late, then I might just lose it. I kept thinking that maybe something happened on the way here. I didn't want to think about unfortunate events that could happen, but it's was just that I couldn't help it. I was walking round my room, occasionally looking at the window for a distance cloud of dust that meant their coming. Once in a while, I sat down and poured my frustrations on pen and paper. I was drawing, if someone considered those stick figures drawings. It was one of the ways I could relieve myself of walking around in circles.

 I was an artist worthy of every bit of abhorrence from society. I could only draw stick figures and animals whose biological structure was a long thin body with a hundred legs. The only decent drawing I could make was of a straight line or a perfect circle. My drawing was even worse when I was in this situation. The paper was soon tarnished with inconsistent loops and doodles, with occasional ink blots. When I couldn't look into the paper without wincing, I stopped drawing. 

I knew nothing was going to be accomplished if I just paced around in my room, which happened for duration of three hours. 

"You are stupid girl," I muttered to myself. I glanced at the clock. It was already nine thirty in the morning. I shook my head. "Yes, indeed. _Very_ stupid." I had kept myself in here for oh so long without any contact to a human being and what did it get me? It only made me more worried. 

I stood up and went out of the door. The corridors were deathly silent. By this time, I was already irritated to my wits end. Locking myself up in my room was a very idiotic act, considering the fact that I couldn't last stagnant in one place for more than two hours. Soon, I was storming around the castle. I wasn't exactly screaming, more like grumbling to myself. I checked every room in the castle. I caught one maid dusting some furniture in one of the many solariums. 

"Excuse me?" I asked. I managed to control myself this time. I hated to be seen as a dictator. 

The girl was humming to herself while dusting a china cat figurine. When she heard me, she spun around and almost knocked down the cat. She dropped down on her knees. Of course, I was looking at her strangely, mainly because she need not drop down on her knees. I didn't even mind if she didn't curtsied. 

Her head was bowed. "Eyese…y-yo…" her voice quivered. I realized that she was trying to speak Kyrrian when she couldn't.

"It's alright," I told her in Ayorthaian. "I can understand Ayorthaian as well as I understand Kyrrian." 

Her eyes were huge and awed. "Yes, your Highness," she said in perfect Ayorthaian. "What may I do for you?" 

"I am wondering where all the people are. I can't seem to find anybody in the hallways," I said. 

She was looking at me with rapt adoration, for one reason or another. I was soon beginning to question the sanity of this young girl.

"Your Majesty," she giggled softly. "They are all in the great hall. His Highness, King Orono, called for an audience."  

My jaw dropped. "Really? Thank you!" 

I turned back and half-ran to the great hall. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I kept on chastising myself. 

The great hall was as great as it could be. The walls were lined with the tapestries that depicted Ayorthaian history and culture. Marble columns held the whole place up. There was a grand staircase at the right side of the hall, used only for the introduction of important nobles and sovereigns. We didn't use this when we arrived because our introduction happened during the Sings, but I wasn't there. At this moment, there were many people in the hall, all looking at the thrones situated at the end of the halls. Seated in the thrones were Uncle Orono and Aunt Vanessa. Standing at their right side was Tristan, he being the crown-prince. At the left side were Ettore and Adara. I couldn't find Mother.

I was about to push my way through the crowd to demand her whereabouts to Uncle Orono but when he spoke, I realized that it was all useless. 

"It is with deep regret that I say that the royal family of Kyrria will now return to their kingdom three days hence because of undisclosed circumstances," he said in Ayorthaian. If we were in Kyrria, the whole court would be buzzing with murmurs and whispers. But we were in Ayortha, and Ayorthaian nobles didn't talk. Instead, they just exchanged meaningful glances at one another, somehow transmitting a message. One of the ladies of the court spotted me and gingerly pointed her fan on my direction. Soon, heads were turning and looking at me. They were all bowing their heads, and some were saying "By your leave." There were many reasons why they did so. Maybe they just wanted to look at me. Or maybe because the words that Uncle Orono had spoken meant more than what they seemed. 

_Deep regret?_

_Undisclosed circumstances?___

Maybe Father and Owen didn't return. 

They might not have made it back.

~*~

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…suspense…

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He couldn't even look at me when I asked what happened. He just turned away his eyes and focused on the table. I sighed. We had been talking for a considerably long time, and then suddenly, when I asked him what happened, he just quieted down. 

I hit him playfully in the arm. "You idiot. You know all too well that you can't keep this from me." 

Owen smirked. "Yes I can keep it away from you. Catleya, it's just that—"

"What? My ears are too sensitive to hear about it?" I replied.

"No," he answered calmly. He looked like Mother with the black hair. "You think too much. I just don't think that you should hear about it. 

Father and Owen did make it safely back. They arrived seven in the morning, and I was already awake. I wasn't informed because they thought I was still asleep and didn't want to disturb me. I should _not_ have locked myself up in my room. If I didn't, then maybe I wouldn't be so lately uninformed. When I was in the great hall with everybody looking at me, I thought I would faint right then and there. I felt that the world was spinning out of control for some reason. I really thought that it was the end. I blamed Uncle Orono for that because he had to speak with the gravest words. If he had only said that he was sad that the royal family of Kyrria would return and not with deepest regret then I might not have felt so crestfallen. It was a good thing Tristan went to my rescue. He quickly went beside me and whispered, "What are you _thinking_?" When he asked me that, it struck me that what I was thinking could not be possibly true because his tone suggested that he could've laughed hard if he didn't tell me this. He told me that Owen was in his own room, resting form the journey. By the time he had finished his sentence, I was already dragging him to the hall, demanding where the room was. We were now sitting in the window seat where Owen was staying. 

I frowned. "It's my business too. You're my brother, and I'm your sister. I should know." 

He shook his head. "If you want to know, you can ask Father. Not me." His voice was suddenly forceful. I stared at him and realized that his thoughts were somewhere else. His eyes clearly showed nostalgia, but what was it? He really couldn't look at me. There was slight sadness in his face, for some reason. 

I could read my brother's mind just as well as he could mine, and I was always determined to know what he was thinking about. He ran his fingers through his hair and I caught sight of the ring Lucinda gave him. His was different. It was made of a golden band and had a garnet for a gem. I instinctively glanced at my own ring. When I did, a rush of memories came to me. The blood and the scream. Those hallucinations—but were they truly hallucinations? 

"Someone died." 

Owen looked at me sharply, his eyes glaring. At first I was taken back; Owen seldom looked at me like this. But then, I realized that I had struck something in him. Someone did die. I was triumphing because I finally found a little about it, but I was also turbulent inside. If someone did die, then this affirmed the strange events with relevance to the ring. It would prove that there was something about that ring…but what?

"How did you know?" he asked. 

I paused before answering. How could I possibly explain to him that I experienced some pain on my finger, and the next thing I knew I was plunged into a series of emotions and synesthesia that I actually fainted, which was also unordinary? I decided that I should tell him. I had to lie to him. I didn't want to tell anybody that I actually fainted because of an inanimate object. He might just think that I was in the brink of hysteria. He wouldn't believe me anyway. I smiled at him. "I guessed," I replied matter-of-fact. "You look so…" 

He cut me off. "Yes, someone did die. Two people, in fact."

"They killed themselves. That is no reason for you to be so troubled," I said. "You're not telling me everything." 

He stood up and walked away from me. "That's not the reason why I'm so troubled. And still, I will not tell you." 

He must have known that I would keep on trying to get it out of him. He left just to prevent me from knowing. What was his problem? I remained seated, gazing at him dumbfound. But before he completely went out of the door, he said, "It's not you. But I think you should know that this occurrence means someone is after the throne." Then he closed the door. 

Of course I knew. I knew that no one would just attack the crown-prince of Kyrria, and those people couldn't be bandits. Bandits rarely stole from a group of knights, let alone from a sovereign with a group of knights. I figured out that this was pivotal. We had to solve this problem quickly, if we would want peace and prosperity to remain in Kyrria. What I couldn't understand was that this was not the whole lot. Owen—maybe even Father and Mother—knew more about this. I could only ponder on the reasons why Owen wouldn't tell me. 

~*~

Anyway, I guess you are all wondering where on earth I got the idea that Ayortha is actually near the sea!?!?! Well, the book didn't say anything, so basically, I made that up. BUT I have proper analysis and substantiation. 

Earlier in the book, Ella mentioned about the RIVER LUCARNO. Now, rivers actually end up in the ocean, but I bet you already know that. 

Also, Ayortha is considerably not near Kyrria because of the difference in the language. Usually, countries that are other countries have languages that have commonalities, but we can see that Kyrrian is English (if it IS English...) and Ayorthaian starts and ends with a vowel. These two languages are COMPLETELY unlike each other. Therefore, they are not near each other. An example of such instances is here in the countries in Europe. The basis of French, Spanish, Italian, etc. is based on ONE language: LATIN. Therefore, love could be amor, amore, amour...or whatever. I'm not sure about the spelling but we studied this in history!

So, Ayortha is not near Kyrria, and the River Lucarno is located in Kyrria but ends up in the ocean. Therefore, the distance between Ayortha and Kyrria could be the distance traveled by the River Lucarno to end up in the ocean! Do you get it? And the name of the ocean is AGUA but I made that up so don't even think of suing me because you couldn't find it in the book!!!

Ack..I updated late AGAIN. I am so extremely sorry! I'm so busy with this school year for some reason! And I still have to prepare an argumentative case for my auditions in the club! (Whoever passes the auditions would get to debate in a NATIONAL debate tournament!!!) 

**X-( **

I am so harassed, as I have kept on saying for the past chapters!! But I do hope you like this chapter, no matter how hasty I wrote it. Our classes were suspended because it was raining hard (frankly, I don't like it because our class lectures would be rushed because of lack of time) so I had the time to write this chapter!!

I really hope you like it!!

Thanks so much to the reviewers!!! ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ


	7. Féséia ronhé limaña

I stared at the door with which Owen just used to get out of the room. That moment might have been the only moment in sixteen years when I felt like not talking to Owen because of his actions. He deliberately did not tell me anything! I would have understood if he explained why he couldn't tell me. It would even be so much better if he just didn't explicitly told me that something was the matter. I was being left out in t he cold, desolated from all the information they knew. Was it because I was too young? Impossible. Father and Mother both thought highly of me, especially if it came with knowledge and understanding; they wouldn't leave me out of this if it was something concerning that. Besides, they believed that ignorance of the youth was deleterious. Certainly, Owen didn't tell me because he thought I would faint or something. He knew that I would rather kill myself than intentionally showing a weakness. 

Why couldn't they tell me? 

I was mentally capable of handling dire matters. I was also the member of the Kyrrian royal family, but how come I wasn't told of about this matter? Owen said so himself: someone was after the throne. And if someone was after the throne, all our lives were in danger. To get the throne, that person would have to get rid of us sovereigns. He or she would have to get Father, Mother, Owen, and me out of the picture. Aunt Cecilia and her family were also in danger. In fact, all our close relatives were in danger! This was so crucial and important, but they wouldn't tell me!

My mood was beginning to decline. I was elated when I realized that Father and Owen returned safe and sound, but then, this occurrence would have to ruin everything.

_Féséia__ ronhé limaña_

My mind suddenly whispered to me, again and again. It was still an enigma, an unsolved puzzle. I didn't tell anybody about my discovery. I supposed I was afraid they would think I was crazy to even consider it. They would really be convinced I was crazy if I told them of the occurrence that happened with the ring. I didn't have the guts to look at Owen's ring. I didn't even want to ask my parents. Besides, they might not even want to tell me. To solve this puzzle, I first had to learn what the meaning of those words was. 

I had nothing to do except to wonder about the reasons why they couldn't tell me, but I wouldn't dwell on it.  I went to the immense library of the Ayorthaian citadel. I had been there before, and the only word to describe it was _breathtaking_. But maybe, it was breathtaking for _me_ and not for another person. The books of the library were all leather-bound. The shelves containing these books reached up to the ceiling. There were many ladders leading up to the bookshelves. There was also a second floor in the library, with a marble staircase leading up to it. There was one section in the library with all the ancient books. These books were contained in shelves with glass doors. No one would be able to look at these books without the librarian's supervision. These books were too precious and rare. 

The library was almost empty when I got there. I smiled at the librarian, who curtsied. I had already memorized all the libraries I had been to, and this was no exception. I immediately headed to the west wing of the library, where all the language books were stored. One of the reasons why I knew this library to heart was because it was my safe hold whenever my family and I visited. Tristan never visited the library when he was a whelp, though I still didn't know if he still didn't visit the library up till now. 

My finger traced the sides of the books. All the titles were in Ayorthaian. I pulled out one of the books. It was entitled _Language Throughout The Ages_. 

When I first saw the table of contents, I shut the book immediately. All the languages enlisted were the languages I was already familiar with and enigma was something miles away from familiarity. 

I looked up. The books that were older were always placed in the higher shelves. Beside me was the ladder. I knew that I would probably be criticized for climbing a ladder just for a book. I wasn't deaf to some people's criticisms. "A princess is supposed to be dainty and modest…not budding explorers of old castles!" I heard someone say once. It was with relevance to my exploration of the old castle in Frell. But I wasn't dainty or modest…I was…I was raucous and curious! What was wrong with that? Clearly, I didn't see what people saw. No matter. I was climbing the ladder anyway.

One step. 

Two steps.

Three steps.

I kept on climbing and climbing until I reached the tenth and last step, probably. I was soon looking at the top of the bookshelf. I carefully scanned the titles of the books. _Symbolic Language. _The History of Gnomic Language_. _Abdegi___ In Four Chapters. There were more ridiculous titles that followed that one. I sighed. I could give up finding a reference now and save myself from wasting time. But if I did, I might never find a solution to my problem. I could always go to the Kyrrian Library, but I would still have to wait for a week or more. I didn't have the time. And I needed to know __now. If I did it now, I would feel at least some self-fulfillment, even though my researching would be futile. _

Finally, I found what I was searching for. The title of the book was sensible, and could be the lead to my search. 

I carefully got the book out of the shelf. I realized that it was truly ancient, like what the title suggested. The reddish leather covering was flaking in some places. The smell was what I liked best. It had a musty scent, a real clue of age. In fading gold calligraphy, the title was written. __

_Ancient Tongues._

It was as if a treasure was in my hands. Certainly the strange language written in the inside of my ring would be something ancient. It could be that it was a lost language, with no other counterpart in the contemporary times. 

I stepped down on the ladder, but now, my knees were wobbling. I was holding the side of the ladder with one hand, and the heavy book on the other. I wasn't afraid with heights, but I was afraid of falling. I supposed the reason was because falling meant pain, or at least some sort of panic. Heights meant only being on top of something high. As I descended down the ladder, knees wobbling and hand gripping on the ladder and book for dear life, I feared that I would fall, hit my head, and then something worse would follow. 

As I reached the sixth step, my fears were confirmed. My wobbling knees quickly gave way and I was soon falling four feet in the air. I uttered a small scream. As much as I hated showing to the whole world that I was a damsel in distress, I did. But I wasn't just going to fall down without a fight. I grabbed the side of the ladder, which in turn, shook and rattled. I silently cursed myself for even doing so. It was alright to fall down but it was not alright to have a ladder come with you! 

"Careful!" someone said. Suddenly, the ladder was no longer shaking crazily. I looked down and saw none other than Tristan, who was now holding the ladder. 

He smirked. "What's wrong with you? Climbing up there without any kind of assistance. You know better than to do so." 

I glared at him. "Won't you just shut up?" I stepped down the ladder. "What I do is not your problem." 

"But it is. We can't have the princess of Kyrria breaking her royal neck in the Ayorthaian library," he replied sarcastically. 

I jumped to the floor and smoothed my gown. The thick book was still in my hand. "What are you doing here anyway?" 

For some reason, he scowled at me. "None of your business. What are _you doing here?" _

I growled in exasperation. Then I turned to him and eyed him squarely. "None of your business, _either_. If you will excuse me, I must go." 

Without any warning though, he snatched the book from my hand. Before I could react, he had already read the title, and was soon flipping the pages. There was a silly grin in his face, as if that book was not something about etymology. I placed my hands on my hips. "What is so amusing?" 

Tristan returned the book to me with a chuckle. "You must be jesting by reading this book. What do you need this for? You and your mother both have the immense knowledge of linguistics stored in your minds." 

I sighed. "I don't know everything about languages. Besides, I wanted to learn more." 

"Learn _more_?" he repeated incredulously. "Haven't you learned everything about etymology? After all, Kyrria established the first language school, not just for Ogrese but for every language there is. And I happen to know that you are one of the 'valedictorians' of that school." 

"I teach there too," I added. "But that's not the matter. I don't know everything about that. I think you should have concluded that when you saw the book." 

"But that book is about the languages you know! Ogrese, Abdegi, Gnomic, Elfin, and all the other languages in this world. You can basically speak Gnomic in a fast pace without faltering. And I highly doubt your ignorance concerning the history behind these languages." 

My face must have looked so crestfallen. "You mean to say that this book only talks about the history of the current languages?" 

He nodded. "If you don't believe me, look and see." 

I did open the book. 

The History of Ogrese. 

The History of Abdegi.

The history of so forth. He was right. This book was nothing. Of course the book detailed the ancient tongues. Kyrrian, Ayorthaian, and Kenesan were not there because it was not as ancient as Ogrese or Abdegi or Elfin or Gnomic. I supposed I couldn't believe it at first because I gave all my hopes into this book. Then suddenly all these hopes vanished. 

"You look so distressed. What is the matter?" Tristan asked. 

I shook my head. "Nothing. I just thought that maybe I could read about something new." I put the book back into the shelf, not bothering the fact that it was not the correct location of the book. Usually, I was a prig when it came to the library, but right now, I didn't feel like it. 

"You need not learn anything new. There are other places for that," he said to me. "Like Kyrria for example. I heard that you would be departing in three days." 

I smirked. "Are you sad?" 

He laughed. "Of course not!" We were walking to the central hall of the library. I noticed one of the paintings there that struck a nostalgic note in me: Aida, the water maiden. "But that doesn't mean I would be happy about your departure. The Ayorthaian court would be quieter now that the Kyrrian royal family is gone." 

I grinned. "You wouldn't have anybody to talk to now, unless you'd want to hear the 'by your leaves.'"

"I guess I would have to leave Ayortha again." 

"Why?" 

He glanced at me. "You pride your intelligence but simple matters elude you." 

My jaw dropped. "I am not shallow nor am I too deep. I'm just asking because you told me that you didn't want to leave Ayortha. I assumed that you were probably joking yourself when you said that." 

"But I do want to leave. It's not easy living in Ayortha if you are raised by an Eriman, let alone have Eriman blood in you. You do know that my mother and her kind are a talkative race." 

"Ettore and Adara both have the same blood as you yet they are not as noisy as you." 

He grinned. "That's because they didn't want to. They decided that shutting up would be good for them, whilst, I didn't. Therefore, I am probably the most garrulous Ayorthaian sovereign." 

"I can't exactly blame you for wanting to leave Ayortha because of the plate-shattering silence," I admitted. "In fact, too much silence could drive me insane. And even though I wanted to kill you when we were kids, I was indebted to you back then. Without you, then I might have lost my mind in this silence." 

"My pleasure," he replied. "Of course I remember you truly losing it. I recall you screaming at Adara and Ettore for being to quiet." 

I shook my head. "They still haven't changed. I mean, what is the point of having a voice when you don't use it?" 

"You haven't very much acquainted yourself with Ayorthaian culture," he observed. "What is the point of having ears when all you hear are voices with no meaning? Ayorthaian nobles don't speak because—"

"Because of your great philosopher Aquila," I interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know the story about him spending time in the Ayorthaian courts, finding it unbearably noisy and making up some lo and behold tenet that every Ayorthaian follows by heart." 

He shook his head. Then he went next to one of the shelves and took out a book. "I suggest you look at this first. Catleya, you are lucky that not every Ayorthaian noble is as silent as the ground they stand on. Well, I see you intend to stay in this library so, see you some other time." 

He left me there in the library. I was beginning to wonder whether or not this was the day when ever person in this whole kingdom would actually leave me standing on one place, with no clue about anything.

I glanced at the book. 

_Eremi_ orwo ehthe usensa odono adda iti__

(If there is too much, do not add to it)

~*~

This I wanted to tell everybody. Firstly, I was confused by this ring a fairy allegedly gave me. It gave me visions, whether it was real or not. I felt something through it, in my mind, in my heart, and in my body. It had always been there in my ring finger, but it never felt tight. It felt as though it was part of my skin. Surely, my finger grew with the passing of sixteen years. But the ring seemed to grow along with me, changing its size and still fitting itself comfortably in my finger. The ring was something important and mysterious. I had to find out because it was so. I had to solve this mystery. Maybe, just maybe, if I could solve this enigma, the rest of the mysteries of my life would be solved also. I had the whole of my life to ponder about this ring with clandestine motives. Unfortunately, I was determined not to waste my life with wondering. I needed to know _now. _

Secondly, there was this issue about the secrecy of Owen—and also my parents. He wouldn't tell me a single thing. Dinner, last night, when I badgered him about telling me, he just rolled his eyes and said, "Don't bother wasting your voice; I won't tell you anything." His words sounded so casual, but his tone was practically the epitome of gravity and concern. When I turned to my parents, Father silenced me with his usual look. Mother glanced at Father with a question in her eyes. They both stared at each other for a rather long time before Mother tore her eyes away and looked at me blankly. After that, she could no longer look at me. But that was not all. When I passed by their rooms ago I heard my parents arguing. 

"Char, why should we keep doing this?" Mother was asking to Father. 

"We have to Ella. We can't have any hysteria at this moment." 

Then the door opened and I was soon facing my parents. I didn't know how they detected my presence, but with the look on their faces, I could've wished I had just walked by their room. 

"Catleya, what are you doing?" Father asked.

I gulped. "I was walking past your room," I lied.

Mother butted in. Sometimes I hated her for being too sharp with the trivial details. "Then why are biting your lip?" 

I stopped biting my lip. Then I cursed myself silently for biting my lip when I was nervous. "Because I like biting it…?" 

Mother laughed, and Father smiled a little. But it was a little. 

"Char, we know all too well that Catleya only bites her lip when she is nervous. Or when she does something _wrong." _

"I didn't do anything. I was just walking past," I defended myself.

Mother's green eyes stared back at me. She had a way with staring at people. Her eyes just made her subject want to crawl to a little corner and writhe with a guilty conscience. Her eyes were so penetrating, and questioning at the same time. "You were nosing around." 

Father didn't bother to justify Mother's conclusion. He just ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Catleya. It is late. Go to bed." 

"What?" I asked him incredulously. 

"Go to bed." 

"I am not a little girl anymore, Father. I know all to well that I don't have to go to bed at this time," I protested.

But it turned out that my protests were futile. With one look, I was off my way too my room. The two of them looked at me with great intimidation that I swallowed all my protests and went to bed. 

My whole family was keeping something from me. I didn't know what to feel. I felt as if I was no longer Father and Mother's daughter, or Owen's sister. I felt like an outsider.  I felt like I was trying to climb an unreachable wall, and since it was unreachable, I kept on sliding down.  I started to hate them for that. Although I didn't try to hate them strongly, I hated them for little things. I was their daughter! I had the right to know what was happening in our kingdom, let alone my own family! 

And thirdly, there's this problem concerning Tristan. How come he just happened to pop out of nowhere for no reason at all? Somehow, we always managed to cross paths and then talk for one reason or another. These moments were in the garden, the sings, the ball, and lastly, the library. It also bothered me that I once wanted to sever Tristan's head when we were young, but right now, I _actually_ cherished his company. After all, he was the only decent minded Ayorthaian noble in the vicinity. 

On the day before we were to leave Ayortha, I woke up on a normal morning and decided to ignore my family, just as they had been ignoring me. If I had to suffer because of their secrecy, then they would have to suffer because of my snubbing. They needed a taste of their own medicine. They needed to feel ho wit was to be left out of something. I couldn't torture myself though, by being a mute. I would still speak, except I would have to do so with the real mutes: the Ayorthaian nobles. But then, speaking with them would not be speaking at all. I would be talking to myself. 

I sat up in bed and looked out the window. It was a new day, and this day would be different. I promised myself that on this day I would not speak with them. I wanted to linger more inside my room, so that in case they wanted my presence, they would have to wait and be patient. It was their fault; they had it coming. If they thought it was infuriating—my tardiness and insubordination—then they should just look at themselves and see how infuriating they were towards me! 

There was a knock on the door. I reasoned with myself that my stubbornness should not be a hindrance to proper manner. I was not a brute, and I did not intend to be. I opened the door and standing in front of it was a timid creature, bowing in such a way that I could only see her blonde head. "Your Highness," she said in Ayorthaian. "Breakfast is already served in the Uidu balcony. Your presence is requested by their Majesties." 

"Exactly, who of the 'their Majesties'?" I asked. 

The girl's eyes remained on the floor. I could see her fingers fidgeting with her skirt. "Their Majesties, King Orono, Queen Vanessa, Prince Tristan, Prin—" 

"So you mean all of them?" I interrupted, impatient.

She nodded. 

"Well…" I paused, trying to assure myself that my next words would not be a suicide attempt. "Tell them that I am still sleeping, therefore I cannot possibly be in the Uidu balcony to have breakfast with them." 

She couldn't help it; she raised her eyes towards me. Her blue eyes were huge and swallowing. I swore I could almost see tears. Her lip quivered. "Princess Catleya! I cannot possibly lie to my sovereigns!" 

I was firm on my decision to not go down. "But, you cannot possibly deny the wishes of a visiting sovereign, especially the sovereign of your kingdom's ally." 

Her bewilderment made me feel sorry for her. She seemed to see something in the air, as if there were little beings there, telling her what to do. She kept on looking at her left then her right. I was beginning to doubt her sanity. But it was my fault. I was using sneaky ways just to get what I wanted. This was certainly unbecoming of a princess, in my standards. I believed that sovereigns should never use their authority for selfish desires, but what was I doing now? I was being a hypocrite to my own beliefs. Who knew that maybe I would become a demagogue, something that was frowned upon by Kyrrian society.

My heart must be so soft and vulnerable to pathetic people. I sighed. "Alright, I will go to the Uidu balcony."

The girl almost jumped for joy.

~*~

The Uidu balcony had a rather interesting feature. It was a domed terrace with frescos in the ceiling. The frescos were mainly pictures of springtime delights like chasing butterflies in meadows, or something like that. There was an oak dining set in the middle of the balcony, for eating and other such doings. Hanging from the ceiling was a multitude of chimes made out of shells forming—yes, butterflies. There were many plants in this balcony. Wisterias were falling from the ledges. There were also baskets carrying temple flowers in strategic places around the balcony. The temple flowers gave an exquisite scent that mixed delicately with the sea breeze. This balcony was very special to Aunt Vanessa's heart. The temple flowers and butterfly-shaped shells were her unique additions. The flowers and the butterflies reminded her of Erima, her old home. 

When I got to the Uida balcony, the first thing I did was glare towards Owen's direction. He returned my glare, of course; it was not like my brother to ignore me. Father and Mother did not see me do this. If they did, then I would be in big trouble. The manservant motioned me to sit beside him. I did, but I didn't say anything to Owen. 

"So Catleya, how was your night?" Owen grinned. "I heard that you did something unfavorable to Father and Mother." 

I glared at him. I knew that he was talking about the eavesdropping incident that happened. As much as I wanted to argue with him, I bit my lip and stared at the food on my plate.

He was befuddled with my silence, as I was usually noisy. 

Breakfast passed by without me talking to him. He tried to talk to get me to talk for a number or times, but I still didn't respond. He must have been very annoyed because at the end of breakfast, he didn't attempt to talk to me. In fact, I suspected him to conclude that I was navel-gazing. I went to the library to read books. I didn't want to be stuck in one room with my family, as I vowed not to speak with them.

I didn't return to the Languages section. That section gave too many disappointing memories. I knew that I could never solve this problem. This ring would always be on my ring finger, and it would always be unsolved and mysterious. I decided to go to my favorite section, the Fiction section. I was a fan of this particular writer. 

Her name was Lady Elspeth of Hualin. She was also my mother's friend. I had met her once, and this was when she visited Mother. She was a few years older than my mother, and was married to Sir Lionel of Hualin. One of her stories—_Eliza—was written by memory of her experiences because of her love for Lionel. Not many people knew this, but Mother told me. She was written in the dedication, but there she was just Ella, and not Queen Ella. Although _Eliza _was not my favorite book, it made me feel sentimental. What was so special about was because it was written from the heart. I preferred her other stories over __Eliza. It was because it was just the message of love was profound—even to me. I couldn't relate with the story, thus I couldn't really make it that relevant with my experiences. _

When I arrived at the Fiction section, I immediately spotted the section where all her works were shelved. I didn't stop there though. I had already read most of her books, and I had no intention to read those again. As much as I loved Lady Elspeth, I couldn't bring myself to reread something I could reread later. I had all the time in the world to read her books, but I had no time to read the books available only in this library.

I went to the section of fictional books that specialized books in the Ayothaian language. I pulled out one, entitled _Alisa_, which was Away in Kyrrian. I took it out of the shelf and went to one of the tables. At first, the reason why I wanted to read this book was because the cover was attractive. It was a painting of four ladies, all wearing costumes from twenty years ago. I sat down on one of the chairs. 

A quick read in the summary showed that it was about a generation of Ayorthaian ladies living in the sophisticated court of Ayortha. The book chronicled the rise from poverty of the first lady of the family. Then soon the book tackled issues on acceptance, love, and treason. Of course if the issues weren't there, one might think it would be dull plot which did not deserve to be printed into a book. 

But no one ever thought that court life would be trouble-free, a breeze. Everyone thought that courtly life was all about frivolous ladies, gallant lords, festive balls, courtly love, and sophisticated lifestyles. Although I would agree that court life included balls, ladies, lords, and shamefully, sophisticated lifestyles, I would have to remonstrate the stereotype view of court life being the easiest kind of life. In all my years in court, I had felt that it was not at all simply dressing up in nice clothes and flirting with gentlemen. In court, acceptance was valuable, and courtiers tend to be criticizers of every move. My being a princess was especially scrutinized upon. One measly mistake like mistaking a salad fork for a mutton fork would lead to rumors about boorishness and incivility. And might I say that courtiers enjoyed using their voices. Courtly life was a strangling lifestyle, where manner and fashion were the ruling elements of society. 

Conformity was rather prominent in court, and standing out was discouraged. This was one of the reasons why Mother was not accepted in a snap in the Kyrrian court. Although she was charming, beautiful, and witty, she was often wild and free willed. She recognized manner and conduct, but she never let these edicts rule her, unlike other courtiers. Mother always told me stories about the first years in Kyrrian court. She refused to wear ballooning skirts and frills in every section. For one moment, she was talked about by every courtier. But soon, everybody realized that Queen Ella was not just a queen. She was a normal person, who preferred this over that. They accepted her free willfulness, and loved her as a queen and lady. 

To be honest, I was claustrophobic with the tight box of courtly life. Every day was a routine of waking up, dressing up nicely, having breakfast, greeting courtiers…and so on. Mother, Father, and Owen didn't care what other people said about them, just as so they knew that what they were doing was right. Rumors never bothered them, and if an ugly rumor did surface, they wouldn't care. As long as they knew the rumor was false, there was no real dilemma—unless the rumor could be so life-threatening. But I wasn't like them. I gave plenty of relevance to rumors, most especially if it was not true, no matter how trivial it was. It was strange…I never really cared about what people think, but when there were rumors about me, I would find the source and clean things up. 

But rumors were rumors, and most rumors would stick to you like glue. No wonder some people thought I was delusional from all my wonderings. Frittering away with time, as Mandy would put it.

Precious, precious time. And I only had little time to find out what was really happening. Maybe this would work. Maybe Owen would probably feel guilty about not telling me, and maybe he would get the message of my silence. I didn't count on Mother and Father telling me. Mother was as stubborn as an ox, and Father's decision would always be final. But Owen…Owen was like butter, although the analogy sounded foolish. He was firm on his decisions, but he could be softened with certain circumstances—like not speaking with him. Or unless this matter was indeed truly pressing that he really couldn't tell me. 

Speaking of Owen…he was inside the library.

I thought the library would be the safest place away from Owen or one of my parents. I was wrong.

He saw me immediately. I was sitting in one of the tables of the library, reading the book. I decided to concentrate on the book and pretend that he wasn't really there. I even focused my thoughts on the book. _Emaline__ was born on the night of the feast of Espere. This feast was one of the most exorbitant and cheerful feasts in Ayortha. And as any other superstitious couple, Otto and Amera believed their daughter to be cheerful and loving, yet she needed to be given all. They believed that she would grow up to be something rich and powerful. And although their love for their baby daughter was inevitable, this little belief clouded a part of it with greed. Otto and Amera believed that it Emaline that would lead them to avariciousness—­_

"I suspected that you don't want to talk to me but you would have to soon. Father and Mother wish to speak with you," Owen said.

I looked up from the book. He was standing beside me, arms crossed over his chest, and looking down at me like some towering black tower from fairytale illustrations. I raised an eyebrow. I was tempted to talk, but I bit my lip again.

Instead, I stood up, left the book on the table, and gestured for him to lead the way.

As he led me through the corridors of the Ayorthaian castle, he tried to get me to talk. 

"I don't understand why you don't want to open your mouth. You are usually garrulous…too garrulous to be exact. I guess I should be happy that once in your life you're not talking too much, but then when you don't talk, the environment seems quieter. Catleya, I know that deep inside you're forcing yourself to not talk. And I know that you want to scream at me, right this very moment…" 

He was so right. I wanted to scream at him right now. Scream at him for not telling me anything, and for implying that I was too noisy.

Then we reached my parents' room. Owen opened the door, and said, "After you." 

I smiled. I had a great big feeling that I would soon find out what was the matter. 

When I went inside, I saw Father standing beside Mother, who was sitting down. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was red. The only time I saw her face that red was when she got in an argument with a maid whom she caught stealing a vase. She was slightly glaring at Father, but when she looked at me, she sighed and shook her head. Father, on the other hand, looked calmer. But I could see that he had been struggling with a dilemma. 

"Catleya, sit down," he said. I did.

"Owen, could you please give us some time alone?" My brother nodded and went out of the room.

Then he started with his voice grave and sullen. It was without energy, something that wasn't of the norm. "This might sound a shock to you. Due to certain circumstances that _will remain undisclosed, your mother and I decided on something that will be for your own good. And I can predict your objection to this, as your mother had been objective. But Catleya, you must understand that this is the only way to keep you from harm." _

 I still didn't talk, even though I wanted so much to. I wanted to ask him what the decision was. Why did it had to be undisclosed? Why did Mother object? Why did they need to protect me?

Then Father's next words forced me to open my mouth and talk.

"Catleya, we have decided to send you to Wistria." 

I leaped up from the chair. "You can't do this to me!" 

Wistria was not all bad. It was a rather pleasant place with meadows stretching far and wide. But it was the duty of the Wistrian Ladies that made it worse. Wistrian Ladies cultivated perfect ladies, carving them from immature brats to poised and genteel courtiers. They were acknowledged for their strictness in manner and fashion. To live under the wing of the Wistrian Ladies would be heaven for a courtier, but not to me. Wisteria was just a bigger and more commercialized finishing school. I didn't need to be finished. I knew that I was already a proper lady. Yes, Wistria was one of the most highly protected places in Kyrria, considering the fact that young ladies lived there, but it didn't mean that I should be there. If they wanted protection, they could leave me be in the castle, where everyone's eyes were on me.

"But you have to Catleya," Mother said. "It's not like I would want you to be cooped up in that place. You have to." 

"No, I don't have to! And why should I be protected? It is not like my life is in danger in every second!" I protested.

"You don't understand the situation, Catleya," Father replied.

I stared at him. "Then tell me why I have to imprison myself in that nest of harpies and sirens. Maybe, I would be able to accept my fate." 

Father shook his head. "No, Catleya. We cannot tell you. You won't understand." 

"I don't understand now because you won't tell me. Why do you have to keep something from me?" 

Mother answered, "Because it is too crucial. Catleya, Wistria will provide you with proper protection. It is near Frell, where the castle is. We can visit you, and you can visit us. There, you will learn to be a princess. There, you will learn to be a proper lady." 

"But you yourself didn't want to be in a finishing school!" 

"My past experiences do not affect my present judgment. This is for your own good." 

I bit my lip again. "How can this be for my own good? Father, Mother…the two of you are just locking me up in a strangling finishing school, where I would have to learn what I already know." 

Father replied, "You cannot perceive Wistria to be such a horrid place. In fact, many ladies wish to go there. There, you will learn the virtues to be a princess, just like the other princesses in your line. Your Aunt Cecilia came there when she was twelve. Your grandmother did so too. There are many princesses who go that place and come out to be better persons." 

"You didn't need to send Owen to some polishing school to be a prince. And do you think that I am not a better person?" I retorted.

"We don't think that. It's just that you have to be safe…" Mother said in an imploring voice, pleading for understanding.

I shook my head. "There it is again: safety. Tell me, Father, Mother. Tell me how can I be safe when I don't even know what will harm me?" 

"By going there you will be," Father replied. "This is final, Catleya. You will go to Wistria, as soon as we arrive in Frell." 

I didn't want to go there. I didn't want to be taught manners and behavior. Most especially, I didn't want to be shunned away in the darkness, without any idea why I was even there. "Fine. I will go there. But don't expect me to thank you for sending me there. Because I will loathe it with all my heart." 

Mother's hand was on her forehead. "Catleya…please, try to understand…" 

"But you're not helping me to understand," I replied. Then I left the room. I had never been so disrespectful to my parents. But here I was, walking out of the room. I was sure that I would be reprimanded for my behavior. Yet, I had a feeling that they knew this would happen, that I would protest, lose, and walk away. And they were right. I had protested. I had lost. I had walked away.  

~*~

Oh my goodness this is a long yet mediocre chapter…nothing special about it…I do hope you like it. I know, every time I write the author's note, I keep on saying that it's not really that good, but I hope you like it still. I know, I know…I guess I have a low self-esteem or something ÜÜÜÜÜ

I'm so sorry I updated so late! I know it's been ages! I have NO LIFE!!! I'm serious! I'm strangled by homework, debates, studies… X-( 

It's only now that I had found time writing…and it's 12:49 am!!!!! And I admit it, I had some writer's block for some time… Eck… it's just that I missed writing this so I crammed it all in two hours… 

And I have a blog… it's much easier to write in it because I don't have to think about it. Catleya requires brain power… Blog only takes a few minutes of the day ÜÜÜÜ Besides, the layout is cute…made it myself... 

I hope you like this chapter! I admit that it's kind of messy but please bear with me!

Thanks to all the reviewers! Love you all! ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ


	8. The Young Lady With A Tiara

 "You might as well try not to be as miserable as you are right now," Owen told me. 

We were eating dinner in the dining hall, and we were seated next to each other. Before dinner, I had locked myself up in my room, refusing to listen to anybody. This was right after Mother and Father told me about their atrocious plans. Of course too many people had already knocked on my door, coaxing me to come out. All their attempts just drove me further into seclusion. Aunt Vanessa knocked on the door, and said that she would take me to the Ayorthaian plaza to shop with her. When she said that, I promised myself that I would never come out of the room until she was finished with her shopping. There was nothing worse than shopping with Aunt Vanessa. She was overly energetic that I couldn't keep up with her. Mother knocked on the door, and said that she would show me a childhood treasure to make me feel better. I didn't say anything. Childhood treasure or not, nothing would make up with what they had planned for me, unless they withdrew it. Tristan thought it was a really funny joke though. He knocked on the door and said the castle was on fire. I screamed at him, "What in damnation do you take me for?" Of course he didn't give up even though I was cursing him already. 

"What had gotten into you? Locking yourself up in that room for no particular reason?" he demanded. 

"Oh dear, apparently, people would just fake their ignorance rather than admit it," I retorted. 

"You think I actually know something?" was his answer from behind the closed door.

I dismissed his admission of ignorance as a joke. I didn't care whether or not they were lying or no. Although there was a possibility that he really did didn't know. But what was the matter? Tristan was just one person amidst millions. I didn't come out till nightfall, and was determined to get through the night without stepping out of this voluntary prison.

But my stomach began to rumble and ache. There was only air inside. When a young serving girl knocked on my door and said in a humble lilting voice that dinner was ready, I stood up, opened the door, and went straight to the dining room. I was crazy enough to lock myself up in one room for half a day, but I was not crazy enough to deprive myself of health!

Although I indeed wanted to eat, the Ayorthaians' belief "If there is too much, do not add to it" did not apply to the dining room. Apparently, too much was _not enough in this place. I front of me was my plate piled with food I couldn't possibly finish. There was a small mound of peas and carrots, piling on top of one another, screaming salvation from the hungry mouth. There was also another mound of mashed potatoes marinated in gravy with the viscosity of water. When I popped it in my mouth I knew that it needed more salt and pepper. I held my breath and painstakingly swallowed it. The main dish in my plate was this huge sliver of deer that should be given to a giant, _not_ a girl who naturally has a small appetite. The steak was so big that I could almost see the little nerves interlocking to create the blood vessels of the now dead animal. The goblet was also of no consolation. It was large and deep, abysmal almost. And whenever I drank from it—just a __little sip—a serving man would come from behind and replenish the goblet of its lost miniscule drop of liquid. _

To make matters worse, I was seated next to Owen, one of the last people I would want to be seated next with.

"You knew about it," I accused. 

He nodded. "Of course I knew. And I certainly know that you are going to Wistria. After all, you wouldn't lock yourself up in your room if you weren't forced to that." At that moment, I swore I wanted to jump up, shake him, and then watch him choke on the vegetables he was trying to eat. He had audacity to say it to my face that he did knew something and he didn't do _anything_ to stop them, when he could anyways. 

I glared at him. "You might as well try not to make me miserable. I'm going to be sent into this wicked place of rigid rules and regulations, roving, scrutinizing, evaluation, and criticizing eyes, sugar-coated giggles of the snide harpies, and worst of all, complete isolation from the real world, which by the way does not concern any kind of fashionable gown. And all the while I'm stuck in this forced feminine utopia blanketed by masses of violet wisteria flowers, the whole world would leave me behind and take its normal voyage through time. Wistria is an evil, demonic place not befitting for someone who needs fresh air!" 

He laughed. "What makes you say that Wistria is absolutely horrendous? If so, then why do many ladies yearn to be there? And if so, why are they not leaving that 'forced feminine utopia' witless and crazy? Besides, Wistria will do you good with regards to your shrewish manner. Maybe then you would be worthy of your title." He grinned at me. I didn't grin back.

"I beg your pardon? I don't care whether or not I'm the weed or flower of Kyrria, and mind you I'm not very enthusiastic with actually _fulfilling_ that so-called glorious title that everybody should try to covet."

"Why shouldn't you? After all, you're just a step away from—" 

"Tell me what makes you think that I'm actually taking steps to get to it??" I interjected.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Showing yourself to everyone." 

"WHAT?" I hissed. "Well, I guess you too are the flower of Kyrria, especially with your exposure to all walks of life. I suppose many ogresses would love to get their hands you," I added sarcastically.

He smiled mirthlessly. "I'm sorry but I failed to see what is so humorous about that." 

"It's not meant to be humorous if you think it is. And I suppose all your laughing explains that you think my situation is actually funny. Well it's not. You are all keeping something from me. It's unfair. How would you feel if you were cut off from everything?" 

"Why do you have to know everything?" Owen replied, irate.

I rolled my eyes. "It seems to me that I'm in the middle of this so maybe I _do_ have the right to know." 

"Whatever you do, you won't know. We don't want you to now. Because if you do know, you'll just lose your mind. We don't want that to happen. And you do know that you are going to Wistria no matter what." 

"What makes you so sure that I'm going to lose my wits over this?" I shot back. "You don't know the future, only gnomes do." 

"Gnomes don't. They only see outlines." 

"But that is not the point. You're being impertinent! Why can't you just enlighten me? Right now I'm losing my wits because of this…" I suddenly played with a pea on my plate.

"Look. It's not something you would want to know." 

I sighed. "It's not something I wouldn't want to know. It's something you all wouldn't want me to know." 

"Why are you so persistent when you know that all your attempts will be futile? You will just tire yourself wondering, as you are tiring me with your repetitious rambling." He decided to ignore me and gave his attention to his plate of food.

So that's how it was going. Everybody would just keep on ignoring poor Catleya's naiveté.  

~*~

For the next three days, the Ayorthaian court could only wonder what happened to the Kyrrian princess. She was suddenly quiet, locking herself up in the guest room or wandering in the gardens. But it was not like they complained about it. They wouldn't even talk, so why open their mouths when they could just keep it shut? The Ayorthaian court wondered whiled the Kyrrian royal family knew more than they did. Much, much more. Father and Mother tried their best to reason with me. They kept on telling me, day in and day out, that it was for my own good. But they never told me how. This was all a huge circle of secrecy. And now, we were to leave Ayortha, and they would just wonder. 

Eventually, the day came when we did have to leave Ayortha. Mother had instructed me to pack my things the night before. She was blasé and direct: something I rarely see, mainly because Mother was more often than not too happy to care. Her blasé was not a big surprise for me, considering that I was treating her—along with everybody else—the same nonchalance she was treating me. She must have thought that she could fight fire with fire, or in this case, ice with ice. Although her disposition towards me was certainly uncanny, it didn't bother me one bit. Father, Mother and Owen were all gearing into the road of trying to snap the sense into me. Well, it would be _so_ easy to accomplish. _If they simply give up their trivialities and tell me what was the matter. _

I had finished packing my things by the end of the morning, which left me ample time to take one last long look at the Ayorthaian castle. For some strange reason, I would be missing it terribly. This feeling was in stark contrast to my past sentiments about this place. Before, I had wanted so much to flee this place the moment I had stepped on its soil. Yet now, I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay where I was.

The reason behind this feeling was a stranger to me. As I walked in the labeled and themed gardens of Ayortha, I tried to draw my own conclusions.

"I probably loved the food," I murmured to myself. "But then…it _did _lack salt and pepper. Besides, Mandy's cooking cannot be surpassed. The room? The people? Most likely I just hate leaving. Yes, maybe because I hate traveling…especially long distances—" 

Someone chuckled. "Talking to yourself now, Catleya?" I turned, and saw Tristan, with a grin brightening his features. I swore I could have punched his too-happy face.  "I was wondering why you haven't been doing so before, considering that you refuse to talk to anyone." 

"I wondered why you aren't, considering that you should have been deposited to a loony bin," I shot back. I raised an eyebrow. Tristan was looking splendidly, annoying, _as usual_. I didn't fail to notice the just as stunning blonde standing right next to him. Her hand was squeezing his arm too tightly, but she was smiling pleasantly. For some reason, I wanted to box her ears and make her face blue and black. Good heavens! When did these murderous and violent thoughts become a tendency? I smiled back at her. "Care to introduce me to your friend?" 

He nodded. "rincess Catleya, meet a rather special lady, the Lady Amara of Evole." 

The little lady curtsied perfectly and said in a very feminine and dainty voice, "Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Princess Catleya." 

I wanted to bite her head off because of all the lady frou-frou and manner she was presenting to me. She reminded me of Wistria, that damnable place where I was condemned to be confined till the end of my sane days. 

"Honestly, Tristan, you don't have to charm some girl just to make me think that a lady would actually put up with your childishness." There was something incredibly wrong with my senses today that I had just taken back the concrete notion that Tristan actually grew up. He did, and it made me wonder why in the world I was actually doing this.

Lady Amara looked at me with her doe-like amber eyes. "Your Highness, you must have been mistaken."

Tristan laughed mirthlessly. "Catleya, Catleya. Confinement and silence must have finally taken over your sensibility. Lady Amara and I have met a year ago while I was staying in Wistria before traveling to yet another kingdom. The only reason why Lady Amara had not been present in the past few days is because she had been in Wistria, finishing the studies she had begun two years ago. She just returned." 

I cocked an eyebrow again. "Wistria?" I sighed. "I knew I had recognized that flawless manner." Lady Amara beamed. I groaned inwardly. It would be an insult to my humanity to dampen the spirits of this woman. Besides, I knew Tristan wanted to see me blow up. "I commend you, Lady Amara, for finally completing the course of learning you had endured in Wistria." 

"Thank you," she replied, a brilliant smile making her features more unbearably perfect. Her dimples were absolutely charming. "My parents had wished me to attend Wistria, and I too had wished to enter the prestige school." I scanned her up and down, hoping to find even just a _tiny_ flaw in her—dirt in her gown, a misplaced golden lock, maybe a blemish in her porcelain skin. None. I groaned inwardly again. How could Tristan ever get a prize such as this lady? He didn't deserve her. Tristan deserved someone who could knock some sense into the mind that had been mucked up with immaturity. 

Good heavens! I've been ranting in my mind about Tristan's utter stupidity when just _yesterday_ I had explicitly admitted to myself that he was no longer the devil!

"Oh" was the only thing I could say. Damn Lady Amara! She had reminded me about my fate in a few more days. Soon, I would have to be as cultured as her, bound by conformity and manners. 

Lady Amara looked behind her shoulder. She then immediately and effortlessly swept that faultless curtsy. "I'm sorry, Princess Catleya. Tristan." She had addressed him so casually! Then, it was true, and there was to be no denying that Lady Amara was indeed more than just a courtier to Tristan's eyes. I wished a pox on her. But her apologetic smile to my direction almost instantly eradicated that dastardly thought. "I am indeed very remorseful. Lady Inani requests my presence in the conservatory to help her with the piano." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Tristan on the cheek. "Pleased to meet you, Princess Catleya." 

For some reason, this affectionate scene made blood rush to my cheeks. Tristan had been surprised too, except that he hid his quite well. We were speechless as Lady Amara turned her back and left us, her hips and derriere swaying provocatively. Tristan eyed her as he left; there was a mischievous gleam in his azure eyes. I glared at him, disgusted at this little act.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sneered, "Where did you get the trophy?" 

 Tristan glanced at me with amusement in his eyes. "Are you deaf? Wistria, as I have said before." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe but I really think you deliberately brought her to my face to annoy me." 

He glared back at me. "Unbelievable, Catleya. I won't go to such a hard time just to annoy you. I assure you, my sentiments are with you. And why the doubt over Amara's background? She is from Wistria, and just recently. And we did meet there." 

"In addition, the two of you happened to maintain a harmonious long-distance relationship which obviously was difficult considering that during that epoch you weren't in one place too long." 

He sighed. "I know one could be led to dubiousness but it is true." 

"Only a friend?" The only thing to back this was that Lady Amara had kissed his cheek, something that friends don't normally do. 

"Yes." His azure eyes twinkled teasingly. He grinned smugly at me for some reason.

"I don't believe you," I concluded.

He scoffed, "Then don't. It wouldn't matter at all. And why the interest in Amara? Amara is, after all, just another Ayorthaian noble in your eyes, nothing more, and nothing less. You shouldn't endeavor to delve deeply in our relationship, if you're aware of the effort you would be wasting." Suddenly, his expression changed from annoyed to curious. "But why the interest, indeed. You can't be envious, are you?"

My jaw dropped. "There are other more deserving people to be jealous about, and you, Tristan, are at the end of the list." 

He chuckled. "I must be jesting myself. You aren't jealous of me. You're jealous of Amara, the poor girl. But who wouldn't be? Considering that she is a fine specimen of the female gender. Someone farther along the road of success than you."

"I don't need a finishing school to push me forward, Tristan," I answered. "But don't trouble yourself with me. I'm about to leave in two hours time. Don't squander away your duende on me." 

He smiled, but sadly now. It was then I knew that he had stopped teasing me, and _finally_ turned into the sensible young man. "Are you sure you really are leaving in two hours?" 

I nodded. "I wouldn't be taking my last glimpse of Ayortha if I weren't." I sighed. "I'd rather be here for a whole year than be in Wistria for even just a week." 

"Why not? I have heard many impressive stories of the women who enter Wistria. Catleya, you shouldn't be sour on attending such a school. It would be an honor for Wistria, and a delight for your people."

I laughed bitterly. "Now they delight in my misery. Such _loving _and _loyal Kyrrian subjects I have." _

"How sure are you you're going to have such a miserable time?" he shot back.

"Oh, then you actually think that wearing frilly gowns and practicing binding manners would actually be enjoyable? I'm sorry Tristan but I'd rather be a wild woman in the woods rather than be the prim and proper princess chained by conformity." 

He grinned. "Strong words for a person about to be sent to meek place." 

"Strong words for a person about to lose her sanity." 

Tristan shook his head. "You must be kidding me, Catleya. If you really do feel that Wistria would be utterly deplorable to both your sanity and psyche, why in the world are you still a princess going for the road of primness and propriety, and certainly not a wild woman in the woods? You are deceiving yourself. You _want to go to Wistria. I know you well enough that if you want something done as powerfully as you claim to now, you would have done so a long time ago. But you are not." _

"I _don't_ want to go to Wistria," I clarified, firmly this time. "And the only thing that's stopping me from doing what I want to do is that title preceding my name." 

He looked at me incredulously. "You mean to say that you don't want to be a princess?" he asked sternly.

I scowled at him, trying to fire up rebelliousness in my eyes. "Yes. I don't want to be." 

"Unbelievable. How can you not see the benefits of being royalty?" 

I stared at him hotly. "You're trying to lure me with the privileges of being one? The perks of actually having the right on stepping all over a whole kingdom? The riches, the power, the influences, the—" 

"No—" 

"—I had thought you had turned into someone who was actually decent and civilized! But now I realized how terribly mistaken I was—"  

I was shouting at him, and the only way he might have thought to stop me was to grab hold of my shoulders and shake me. "I wasn't telling you that the only matter about royalty worth acknowledging is the 'perks' as you labeled them. I meant to say that being a princess gives you the ultimate opportunity to actually make things right. Not all people have to power to influence the lives of many."

He made sense but not enough sense to actually put me to sense. "You don't understand, Tristan. How can you actually do all those charitable deeds when you despise the situation you are in?" 

"Conformity is a small price to pay for all the good you can do." 

"That is incredibly noble of you, Prince of Ayortha. But frankly, I don't see much point of doing something benevolent acts to the people who put me into unhappiness—unhappiness as in being unable to actually act on your own accord without eyes surrounding you." 

He shook his head. "Catleya, I didn't think you could be that selfish. You are denying yourself the chance because you think they are treating you unfairly?" I could note in his tone that he was rather furious. "Did it ever occur to you, Princess of Kyrria, that they don't mean to be so scrutinizing?" 

"No, it didn't," I replied haughtily. "And you might as well deal with, Tristan. Nothing will change my mind about royalty—"  

 He shot back, "And nothing you will do will change you form being one—"

 "What in damnation do you care anyway? This is my problem not yours! Whether or not I fully accept my obligation as a sovereign should not matter you being that you are a river away from my kingdom." 

"It matters to me because I think it's my duty to put some logic into your mind before anybody would come to realize your irrationality! The reason why they are so prying is because it's a check and balance system. They keep tabs on you, and you would have to do your best for them, and in return they will do their best for you!" 

"See?" I almost screamed. "You pointed it out yourself! Now, _I _am indebted to the whole of Kyrria simply because they can't keep my eyes off me!" I groaned. "That is it. I am finished talking with you, Tristan. I am sick and tired of people always sticking their noses into my business, when they themselves don't let me stick my nose into their business which wholly includes me." 

Tristan glared back at me. "I don't know what you are talking about. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not keeping any knowledge that I might have come across with regards to your deportation to Wistria. The only reason why I'm endeavoring to make you see some sense is because a whole kingdom is in your hands. You can't possibly do the best for your own kingdom when you don't even care a tad bit for it." 

"I do care about Kyrria, you incorrigible cad! It's just that I don't want this onerous duty of being a princess!"  By this time, I could no longer take it. He was right, and I knew that there was no other truth to what he was saying. I was being selfish, unreasonable. But my pride got the better of me, and instead of making amends to the person who helped make Ayortha a place worthwhile, I stomped away from, refusing to hear another word from the voice that meant so much to me.

~*~

The trip to Wistria was not something of note, as nothing really did happen. I still refused to talk to my parents. Owen tried to get me to do so but he just couldn't. Yes, indeed, the trip to Wistria was solemn and silent, with me being indifferent to my family for the rest of the journey. 

Although the journey to Wistria was tedious and uneventful, our arrival in the condemnable school of conformity was rather amusing. It was so because no one had really expected Wistria to be so grand. Owen had shown his surprise more clearly than ours.

Owen could hardly believe his eyes when the gates of the Wistrian Ladies' Finishing School opened. He had expected the place to be small, accommodating, and simple. Especially not ostentatious, verdant, and elaborate. The gates were made out of wrought iron, heated and coiled into spirals that danced. There were topiaries of great many things sharing a common theme: femininity. The school looked like an estate already, with two visible terraces and large windows with stained glass lunettes. The damnable place also lived up to the name it was derived from. Wisterias hang from the balconies, waterfalls of verdant leaves and colorful petals. 

Mother groaned. "Why is it that this finishing school is delightful-looking, whilst the finishing school I had sadly attended was bland?" she remarked.

I wanted to snap at her, tell her that there was nothing delightful about an estate that definitely emanated the vibes of a strict housing. Mother had glanced at me, probably hoping against all odds that I might actually open my mouth. I was still implementing to myself the code of no communication; and I am not one to break promises that I myself had instigated. Instead, I sat up stiff and haughtily, obviously confirming her notions of not speaking with her.

When we had reached the cursed entrance, no one had to push me out of the carriage. I had resolved to come there willingly yet bitterly. I didn't want to argue with them anymore, knowing all too well that my saliva would be severely wasted because they wouldn't budge. I would show them my misery of having to accept defeat, and eventually their conscience would make them feel blameworthy. It was cruel of me, but yes, I wanted them to rot in their guilt.

"Your Highnesses!!" two ladies chirped simultaneously. But it sounded horrible. One of the ladies sounded like a frog, and the other sounded like a lion. They had come out of the grand doors of Wistria. And I simply have to mention the embellished engraving on the door: a large ornamentally flourished _W with wisterias falling over it gracefully. There were two lovely ladies at each side of the large door, and apparently, these engraved wooden ladies were the inanimate ones to welcome to guests. Frankly, I would much rather have these wooden engravings spring to life and greet thus (much to my shock and eventual panic) than have these two present ladies come. _

We were met by two opposite ladies. The first was buxom and a distressingly tall woman that put Father and Owen—two of the tallest people I had met—to shame. She was a large woman, with fat rosy cheeks yet kind round eyes. The skirt of her gown reached an unbelievable diameter around her, and her voluptuousness was held on by a tight corset. But instead of getting attention of her chest, it actually made her "treasures" (as I would so often call them) mountains over flatlands. Apparently, everything about her was round. The second lady was short and skinny as a pen. Whilst the other lady was all round, this one was all…triangles. Her hair was done in a pyramid like bun, her eyes high on the lids, her lips pursed in a flattop pointed smile, her nose straight, hook, and sharp, and goodness! even her gown was triangular with a wide bodice abruptly ending in a point at her waist.

_Don't despise them, Catleya. You know that these two ladies are not the ones responsible for your current situation. Who knows? Maybe they will be the ones to actually make you feel better about being in this place. _

_Yes…don't hate them. Like __them. After all, they haven't done anything to you. Yet._

Good gracious. My silence had eventually led to my talking to my conscience. Oh well…certain actions do have repercussions…

_And for supposedly society engrossed ladies, they are very well out of fashion. Pointed bodices and wide skirts are banished from Kyrria. if And if my memory serves me, this kind of clothing is popular in Ayortha_, which is very far away from Wistria and Kyrria! That's why I'm wearing a morning gown with a high waistline—the current fashion in Kyrria. Good grief! These ladies who claim to know society don't know them as well as they should! Why in the world should I study with big hypocrites? What in tarnation will I learn? Nothing! __

The round one went forward first. "Lady Ophelia, at your service, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses." Her voice was as round as her. 

The pointy one came forward second. "Lady Quenby, Your Highnesses. And we," she gestured at Lady Ophelia and her, "are the mistresses of Wistria. The prime ladies, as some might say." Her voice was croaky…

Mother and I curtsied while Father and Owen bowed. I noticed Lady Quenby eyeing me with disdain…must be because of my scowling face.

"I expect you know the reason of our arrival," Father said.

Lady Ophelia curtsied. "Yes, Your Highness. And we are truly aware that it is protection that you wish for your daughter."

I shot a look at Father. These two weird ladies knew and they were strangers to our family, yet _I_, the one wholly in the middle of all this muck, was _not aware?? What kind of stupid logic was this??_

_No Catleya. Do not__ argue with your dear Father. Silence…_

"And we are pleased with all our hearts to have our usual lady sovereign in our dear Wistria. Unfortunately, it was skipped some years ago," Lady Quenby told us. Buher eyes lingered at Mother for some time, meaning that it was her she was referring to.

"We will make sure Princess Catleya would have a wonderful time in Wistria," Lady Ophelia added.

Father nodded. "I am assured of this fact. Now, if you give us some time alone…" Before Father finished his sentence, Ladies Ophelia and Quenby had already curtsied and left. 

The three of them turned on me. 

Father was the one speaking. "We know you still aren't speaking with us…" I eyed them with widened eyes, feigning innocence. "…and I suppose we understand it." He then embraced me. I remained stiff in his arms, not returning his fatherly affection. As far as I was concerned, I despised them all. "But I promise you that all will reveal itself in due time. But not now. We cannot risk your reaction to this situation." 

I raised an eyebrow. Mother then spoke. "Catleya. We love you with all our hearts and would _never deliberately hold knowledge from you unless it is called for. Unless…someone's life depended on it."_

Ah! Now someone's life became an excuse! I bit my lip. The least they could do was give me plausible reasons, not stupid, unbelievable ones. 

Seeing my nonchalance, Father and Mother shook their heads. They each kissed my cheeks, and said goodbye. They knew that I could be as hard as a rock if I wanted to, and it would take a lot to get me out of my decision. They knew that it was futile to try to compromise and that if they forced me to do so, it would only make matters worse. The only solution they could find in this predicament was to step back and wait for me to soften a bit. And this was what they did. 

Owen watched our parents retreat to the carriage. He glared at me. "Don't be a cad, Catleya. You know they wouldn't be like that if the reasons weren't valid." 

I raised an eyebrow. How dare he try to convince me that it was all good! He had no idea how vulnerable and isolating my situation so he had no right to lecture me about being a cad or valid reasons! No right at all! In fact, they were the ones who were being cads. They had no regard for what I was feeling. They didn't care whether or not I was ignorant. If I were a cad, then what were they?

When they did all leave, eventually, Lady Quenby and Lady Ophelia came out of the estate. They waved farewell to the departing carriage more enthusiastically than I—if I did wave. But I didn't, actually. I just stared at the coach with the royal emblem go smaller with every step of the horses. I wouldn't see them for a long time, but I supposed that it would be an adequate duration of time to help me forgive them. I hated myself for feeling this way. Hating someone—an acquaintance, perchance—was acceptable, but hating a family member was unsettling. It was especially unsettling if you hated all of them. They were the people you have lived with all your life, the people who helped mold you into who you were, the people you were probably most grateful to for giving you a life, a home, and a self. Yet none of this gratitude was seen through my actions. How could it be so easy to loathe the image of the same people who garnered the reins of your past? Was it really lack of love, or maybe stubborn idiocy? And if so, whose fault really was it? Was I the wrong one, to be mulish and ungrateful, or my family, to be unreasonable and closed? But right now, I didn't have any idea who was at fault. I didn't even have a concrete idea why hating them came to me so naturally, when in the past I had forgiven them for other trespasses. But as far as I was concerned, I wouldn't forgive them just yet. Not yet.

"Your Highness, Princess Catleya," Lady Quenby murmured with awe, "we are more than honored to have you here in Wistria." 

"And as the ladies of Wistria, we shall endeavor to make this experience a memorable one," Lady Ophelia added. "Now, come, Your Highness. We shall escort you to the room where you would lodge during the duration of your stay." 

Lady Ophelia took hold of my right hand, while Lady Quenby took my other. "You will be pleased with your room, Princess Catleya. It is, after all, the lodgings of your ancestors. Queen Amelia, Queen Daria, Princess Cecilia, and your other royal female ancestors stayed there. Except Queen Ella, though. Her Royal Highness was educated in a finishing school in Jenn. A pity she was not finished here."

"What do you do here?" I asked.

Lady Ophelia and Lady Quenby looked at each other. Their faces were appalled with my gall, or maybe my lack of subtlety on questioning. Good grief, I might as well bite holes on my tongue if subtlety and tact should be apparent in every word. 

Lady Quenby replied dryly, obviously not pleased with me, "We shall instruct you in the mannerism of court, the domestic duties of a lady, and most importantly, the virtues that you should be epitomize in all your actions." 

I nodded. "And what if I already know how to?" 

The two ladies looked again at each other. "We are sorry to only inform you on this," Lady Ophelia began, "but our disposition towards you shall be that of a real mistress, a teacher, a governess. You are no higher than any of the girls in this institute. You shall be treated as an equal lady. And no matter how boorish you would act, or how remarkably diligent you are, we shall see fit to alter our disposition towards you. It must be clear to you, Princess Catleya, that in this institute, all the ladies are unfinished—including you—and it is our utmost duty to finish these girls into the ladies that they are meant to be."

"Ah, so this means that you wouldn't address me with 'Your Royal Highness' of 'Princess' every single minute of the day?" I inquired brazenly. It would be pure entertainment to irritate these ladies! Maybe this was the hidden reason why I was here. Maybe it was the will of the fates for me to be sent here, to put some sense into their manner-clouded minds. "And does this also mean that every single girl in this school would not curtsy every time I look at them?" 

Lady Quenby stared at me. I swore she could croak any moment with her surprise. "Certainly. And if you would permit it, we shall call you Catleya from now on." 

"Okay." 

The two ladies stared at me again. They must be thinking, _Good grief this princess has the tongue of a commoner! Must remedy! Must remedy!_ If I played my cards right, then I could fool them into thinking I really was an ill-mannered boor—which was not true. They would have to advance their endeavors, and have a hard time with me. I was rather incorrigible. Yes, that would be my only entertainment here. These two ladies would waste all their energies on my reformation, which was truly unnecessary. I would be regarded as poorly trained, unfit lady, but _anything _to annoy these two ladies. Yes, I would go from mannered to ill-mannered frequently, thus confusing their clouded minds. That would surely put some sense in to them.

 "And we shall start by curbing your common language." 

"Truly?" I reverted to grandiloquence that was expected of me by being a member of royalty. "I am very apologetic but I had not adumbrated that my compendious verbalization would be cause to debouch such resentment from such respected ladies."

The look on their faces was famous! Lady Quenby's mouth was slightly open, a dubious expression covering her frog-like face. Lady Ophelia was more dramatic. Her eyes were round like plates, and her mouth just as round. I grinned in spite of myself but I managed to make it seem like I was really sincere. 

They easily shook themselves out of the momentary surprise. 

"Well, it seems that we really don't have to curb your empurpled language," Lady Ophelia admitted.

I decided to ignore them now and take more notice of my surroundings. Wistria was gaudy with many paintings in every wall that it was almost suffocating. And it had wanted to show that it was the epitome of a wisteria. The walls were covered with cream wallpapered with intricate wisterias printed on it. It was exquisite and adorable, but then, the too many paintings just covered too much wall for the wallpaper to be noticed wholly. The large windows each had transom lunettes of stained glass over them. And the design of the glass was—again—a drooping raceme of wisteria. The long corridor in which I was being led to had many doors at the sides, each having a nameplate on the door. The plates contained the names of girls—Claudia, Michelle, Anna, Tanya, and so forth—which I suspected were the ones who lived in the room. The doors were as intricate with wooden carvings of wisterias and a lady in ladylike poses. There were _too many wisterias in every turn I make, I couldn't take. I felt that I was being sucked of my energies with the too many wisterias, all crowding around me, refusing to give me a glimpse of another kind of flower! _

"The ladies are now in the Coventry garden, enjoying their leisure time," Lady Ophelia informed me when she caught me scrutinizing the nameplates. 

Coventry meant the state of being banished or ostracized so it greatly intrigued why the garden was called so. And I said promptly, "Forgive me for being so prying, but pray tell, why it is called Coventry garden, when the meaning of such a word has a very negative connotation."

Lady Quenby smiled, but it didn't give any comfort. "Many ladies before you had asked the same inquiry. 'Tis because we wish the ladies to be isolated or banished from unsatisfactory elements found in this society. The Coventry garden is like a haven for the ladies—a place isolated from the ills of society." 

"Here is your room," Lady Ophelia said. 

She opened a door with a nameplate already. _Catleya was written. The door was just as intricate as the others but this time the wisterias were a roof above the head of a beautifully carved wooden lady. What struck me was the small tiara she was wearing, and the delightful smile playing her features as she gazed up at the roof of wisterias. The small tiara was an indication of royalty, and this room was made precisely for that purpose. I concluded from the smile of the girl face that she was delighted with Wistria. She was gazing adoringly at the wisterias, the symbol of Wistria, and this could very well mean that she adored the place. The wisterias above her could be a significant symbolism. It could mean that the princess was underneath Wistria. I sighed inwardly. This was partly true now. I was at their mercy, and the procession my days highly depended on this damnable place._

But then, maybe it meant that I _should be under Wistria, and __adore it at the same time. Good grief! Even a door was giving me implied commands!_

"We sincerely hope that this room shall please you," Lady Quenby said. "We must leave you now, Catleya. You may go to the Coventry garden afterwards. It is not so difficult to locate. Your luggage is there already, so you would have no problem unpacking. We shall send for a personal maid for you later. Young ladies should never be without a personal maid." 

The two ladies left me to open the door. I stared for another time at the door and rolled my eyes. I would definitely not adore this place. I pushed open the door and was greeted with a pleasant surprise.

Thank goodness the room was not purple like the corridors! The walls were white yet with a sky-blue border. Sitting next to each other on the far left was a highboy and closet. Not so far was a dresser I suspected was made out of cast bronze, with a large ornamental mirror. Next to the large windows with white curtains was the canopy bed. It was surprisingly large, with blue sheets and white silk draperies. The carpeted floor was blue also. The window seat situated in a corner window was striped blue and white. Behind a screen was a marble bath. 

When the door shut behind me, I almost burst into tears. This place was a little paradise, a place to call my own, yet it was no nepenthe to what I was feeling. I was suddenly frustrated, sorrowful. I kept remembering my parents and Owen, and I bit my lip till it bled to forget about it. I was stuck in a beautiful place, yet it was the last place I wanted to be in. I should love this place. Wistria was hospitable, well-furnished, and polite. They were willing to take me in even if I was most incorrigible and stubborn. But I hated it with all my heart. This was the place that my unreasonable parents had found most convenient to dump me into. Maybe their grounds for sending me here was just a mask to hide the truth that they just wanted to get rid of me, that I was unladylike in their terms. They knew I wouldn't object to their motives if it was for my sake. After all, they knew that I depended on them for everything. I wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for them. I was their onerous responsibility. I needed to be protected buy them and that little fact was enough to be an excuse me to banish me. And it was probably so easy for them to take advantage of that right to protectiveness because they just had to bury in my mind that it was for the best, for "security purposes", for me to comply. But I had not done so, did I? I had been mulish and extremely indomitable. Well, fine! I didn't need them to live in the first place! And if I have to run away and burn this place to the ground to show them that I was every bit as independent as I could be, then I would do it!

But they were right. I lived under their hand. And they didn't need to make excuses to send me here. I had protested with all my might. I had turned to cold shoulder treatments just to get my point across. But none of this was given notice. 

The young lady engraved on the door looked up adoringly at the wisterias. And for some reason, I knew that I was supposed to be the young lady, looking up at the loathed wisterias, giving them every bit of my bitter adoration.

What could be worse? 

~*~

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S APOLOGY NOTE**

Ok…you can reprimand me now. I understand that I was gone for about three months. And I am extremely sorry. I must admit that I had writer's block for some time (hey, no one's immune to that) and that I was indeed to busy for words. And I still am. It's just that I was lucky to have the holiday break free. And for another view of my sked… uhm…studies, exams, play production, trainings, competitions…and I had been writing other stories. Stories that I plan to finish before posting it here in ff.net. I'm so sorry that it took so damn long to upload. That's why I gave you a nice long chappie to compensate. I just hope it is enough. _ I'm so sorry… Hope you like the chapter. Thanks to the reviewers!!

And oki fine…since I HAVE been writing other stories, I'll post another a chapter of it in here. So then you'd see what in the world I had been doing. I will post this story pretty soon. It's going too be finished in about…three more pages. Heheehehe…that's what I've been trying to finish… but it's just so hard to end stories!!

The title of this story is "**Flower Among Weeds." It is VERY LOOSELY based on the tale of Cinderella. I'll probably post it on the Fairytales section soon. Have fun. This could help you wait for the next chapter too. =) (",)**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!**

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People who didn't know me look at me and think: _this girl must have a perfect life._

They judged me with their eyes, and their eyes were wrong.

Many frowned upon me once they knew of reason of my existence. Why did I hate them so, when if it didn't happen, I wouldn't be here? I was made out of wedlock. My mother was the daughter of a rich lord, and my father was the heir to a lower ranked baron. They fell in love even though my mother's parents disapproved of it. Because of their love, I was created. Because of their love, I lived in my mother's womb for two months without a legal father. They were married just to cover me up, so they wouldn't be disgraced. My father's parents were smiling on the day they exchanged their vows because they would gain from my mother's fortune. My mother's parents were frowning on that day because their daughter was married to a poorer man. 

They've never told me, but I worked it out myself. I was born seven months after their marriage, which was impossible if I was created on the night of their marriage. I was born a healthy, nine-month old babe. 

Not only was I unintentional, my birth rendered my mother barren. She could no longer give birth because it was a challenge to bear me. 

I was an _accident_. I was an _unintended_. I was their _problem_. They had to get married early to avoid scandal among society. And my grandparents (on my mother's side) concluded that I was the reason of my mother's downfall. But then, when I grew up, they suddenly forgot that I was. 

But despite that, my parents loved me dearly. I was the fruit of their love. I was their little Alva. Father was the one who named me. Despite the fact that he was not as rich as my mother was, he was well educated. He named me Alva, a foreign name meaning light-skinned or white. He named me this because I was light-skinned when I was born. Mother also called me in another name: Celeste. It was because I was ethereal and celestial. She believed that I was the best event in her life. 

I loved my parents in return. They treated me fairly and educated me properly. I grew up reading many books. I've read all sorts of them, from fiction to non-fiction. But what I truly love the most was history. 

Nothing excites me more than real events written on paper. I've memorized in my head the wars that include my kingdom, Tryla. I could name them—the Rosean, the Miseth, the Etedod, and many more. I've known the societal changes that have happened since I was thirteen. I knew of the slavery that happened in Miseth, the discrimination in Etedod, the historic signing of the peace treaty in Rosea. I was in love in history, and I was sure it would be my only love.

I was an active child. I was imaginative and a daydreamer, which were the two reasons why I wrote stories. I was troublesome and curious. Mother was often enraged when I climbed trees or ran wild. She would lecture me on being a lady, even though I was still eleven. I should have listened. I should have just tried to reach her expectations. If I had kept promises, why did I wait for the fulfillment of the bargain before actually doing my part of the deal?

I realized too late that I shouldn't have. On my eleventh year, Mother died and my life changed drastically.

~

Mother's death was foreseen. Everyday she was dying from a disease that affected few. I asked myself when I learned, "Why did it have to be her, when so many people could've taken her place?" Before the disease claimed her health, she was a socialite. She was gone at night, probably at a party. Before she would go, she would tuck me to bed and kiss my forehead. 

Yet, even before the disease, no one close to my family thought my mother would live long. She was sickly but she could be cured. It was just with that disease, a disease with no name and origin, made matters worse. Day by day, she would grow paler. She would have coughing fits when it was either too hot or too cold. Yet she could still lift her head up and be a mother and social butterfly. 

I saw the thread of life get thinner and thinner by each passing day. 

There was not a day in my life while Mother was still holding on that I didn't cry or bargain for her life. I promised never to climb trees or run wild. I promised to be the little lady that she wished me to be. I even promised to be sick instead of her. I cried because I had to see her suffer. I cried because she was fighting for her health when at the same time, her efforts made her lose it. I cried because I knew that one day, time would stop and suddenly, she would no longer be there. 

Then it happened. The feeling was indescribable. It could not be explained in one word. Only a poet could explain it. It was as a part of my heart was taken away. There was a gaping hole in the middle, sucking in all the sadness and keeping it there. There was a shadow in my soul, darkening my days and thoughts. It was unbearable, the loss, the loneliness. What made me feel worse was that I could never get that part back. That I would have to live with a hole in my heart until someone new would fill it up. 

When Mother died, Father couldn't accept it. He loved her very much. For days, he couldn't even look at me because I looked so much like her. His sadness made me even sicker inside myself. I couldn't look into the mirror, for I could see my mother's eyes staring back at me. His traveling increased just so he could distract himself from Mother's death. When he was back home, he acted as if I didn't exist, and locked himself up in his own room, lamenting. 

When he couldn't even take the mere trace of me in his own home, I was sent to finishing school. I could have hated him for that, but there was no more space in my heart other than sadness. When Mother died, I thought Father would comfort me in my early loss. But he didn't. He sent me away to an unpleasant place just to benefit himself. 

Finishing school was not the place I needed to be in this era of melancholy. The ladies there shunned me, saying I was not one of them. I was just too different. The finishing school mistresses were of no consolation. They treated me with coldness. The only thing that made them acknowledged my presence was the fact that they were paid. I couldn't take it—the sadness, the desolation, and the loneliness. I buried myself even more in reading, writing, and drawing. I tried to make myself busy just to keep myself from feeling the dread and the loss. It was in that epoch of despair that I stumbled upon my temporary salvation. 

Something more could have been made through Mother's death. With only the two of us left in this world, Father and I could have shared our sadness, and somehow overcome it together. But it didn't happen. We both wallowed in our misery in two separate places, thus prolonging this period for months.

I couldn't let my mother's death be my own ruin. I was determined to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. If Mother could speak to me from death's claim, she would say that I shouldn't let her death be my own suffering. It would only give her more pain, knowing that she left the world with my bliss.

I did it for the love of Mother. I loved her too much to let her be the cause of my own grievances. 

I had escaped this challenge quicker than I had expected. But father was not as swift as I was. 

I waited until he got away from his melancholy. He realized that I was the only thing left of my mother. He believed that I was the only thing closest to her. He spoiled me even more. He gave me more books and baubles every time he returned from his travels. 

But on my fifteenth year, Father came home, not just carrying books and trinkets. In his arms was a new wife, and following them were two young ladies.

I was old enough to understand that he needed someone he could love in a different way. Yet I couldn't understand how he could replace my sweet beloved mother with Lady Lacrecia. There was nothing wrong with her; she was beautiful and educated. But when I laid eyes on her, I could feel her steady glare surveying me from head to foot. Her eyebrow was raised, and it ticked me off. She didn't greet me informally, like what a real mother should. She just took out her hand, and I was forced to kiss it. But, since my father loved her, I gave her a chance to be like a mother, and I emptied a space in my heart for her.

She told me to call her Mother, but I couldn't. My mother was my mother, the only one. She was buried and dead and this lady was not her. I call her Lacrecia to show her that she was not my real mother.

Lady Lacrecia had two daughters, older than me. Caroline was two years older than Edith and I was a year my senior. Caroline was clearly the most pampered one. She was taller, with gleaming blond hair, in contrast to my raven locks. Her eyes were blue and glaring like her mother's eyes. Edith was quiet. Her hair was a shocking red that, I must admit, hurt my eyes. Her eyes were blue like Caroline, but serene. 

When we grew up together, I saw more of my two sisters. Caroline was like my stepmother. She was vivacious to other people, but not I. She was bossy and commanding around me, often ordering me to stay out of her way. Edith, on the other hand, was the paragon of a wife. She embroidered everyday. She was introverted and seldom spoke.

But though I tried, I couldn't love my stepfamily. 

I should have tried harder, because when Father died on my sixteenth year, they were the only family I got.

~


	9. Tarnished Square Of White Cloth

When she was born, she was predicted to be just like her mother, Queen Ella. But when she grew up, she realized that this assertion was not all good. She was only seen as the Flower of Kyrria. But soon, that would be changed.

~*~

 The Coventry garden was not what I had expected. Because of the ghastly meaning behind the word, I had envisioned the place as a cold, dreary place where the ladies were _forced to have leisure time. There would be Wistrian Ladies in every corner of the garden, watching over them like raptors, biting and hissing at a dissatisfaction a girl might have happened to commit. Their faces would all be gaunt, lifeless, and hopeless. The flowers would be wilted and there would be moths instead of butterflies. The sun never shined on that area of Kyrria because it felt that all its happy radiant rays would be sucked up by that abysmal hole._

But that was my cynical, pessimistic, and rambling mind imagining things. I was too angry to think that Wistria could be anything other than purple, blue, white, pink, and frustrations. 

Imagine my surprise when I actually found the Coventry garden as one of places _I would want to be banished to._

The whole environment was paradise enclosed in a tall brick wall encircling the garden. There were wisterias—but then I had already concluded that Wistria wouldn't be Wistria without the oh so special wisteria—and along with it were more flowers. When outside, I had had a sickening overdose of this particular plant, here it was not so apparent. The different flowers were balanced out in number and pattern. There were roses, tulips, hydrangeas, amaryllises, peonies, and lilies. The rose vines climbed the brick walls, and the barks of thick oaks and mahoganies. The roses bloomed in every color possible: crimson, pink, white, and yellow. They were the biggest roses I had ever seen, next to the roses in our castle. Mixed with roses was another kind of vine with different flowers. The flowers were tubular, stained with the color of either white or scarlet. Hummingbirds gathered around it, pecking it, surrounding it. It was probably a cypress vine, a vine notorious for attracting hummingbirds. The beds were arranged in patterns that mimicked the rainbow: the blue tulips, red amaryllises, indigo peonies, orange dahlias, yellow daisies, dainty violets, and the green leaves of mint. There was a small fishpond on one corner of the garden. Weeping willows let their arms drift above the crystalline surface. Large gold and orange fish nibbled on some of the tips. There were butterflies flitting from flower to another, dancing with each other, and giving more color to the garden. There were many wrought iron tables, chairs, and benches scattered about the garden. Each had a uniformed design of curling tendrils. 

The ladies were not gaunt, lifeless, and hopeless. In fact, they looked too happy for words. They were richly clad in fashionable day gowns—the high waist, puffed sleeves, and rich embroidery. Even the fabric was rich: cambric muslins, glowing satins, soft silks. They were all quite lovely in their apparel, and all of them had smiles on their faces. The benches underneath the trees were populated with girls gossiping or reading books. Some of the ladies were seated in the benches covered by the weeping willows. A good number was taking notice of the population of fish. Daring ladies sat on the carpet of grass, although there was a barrier of a soft rug. There were no scrutinizing Wistrian Ladies. In fact, the Wistrian Ladies (they stood out because most of the ladies were young; the Wistrian Ladies were middle-aged or older) also enjoyed their own leisure time. They each carried books, or some wrote on notebooks. But a good number of Wistrian Ladies and young ladies alike just admired the beautiful Coventry garden. 

This was obviously _not my vision of the Coventry garden._

I was still fresh from all the frustrations that had erupted with my brief solitude. It didn't occur to me that the sight of this garden would actually improve my angry disposition. But it did help. 

Lady Quenby was lying. It was difficult going to the Coventry garden. Well, what did you expect from a garden that was "a place isolated from the ills of society?" My sense of direction was appalling, so it was no great wonder for me to be lost in a matter of minutes. Aside from that, the nauseating and repetitive interior design of the corridors (purple walls, too many paintings) caused such confusion in my mind, that I swore I had not been moving at all! I was lucky that a servant happened to pass by. 

I asked for directions, and she simply said that to go to the Coventry garden, I should just follow a series of paintings that depicted only gardens. By then, I had been lost for a good ten minutes and was certain that this girl was delirious. But I did look at the paintings and realized that they _could _be directions. There were themes on the paintings: dining rooms, study rooms, classrooms, receiving rooms, and yes, gardens. I did follow the garden-depicting paintings, and lo and behold! I had found myself in the doorway to the Coventry garden. 

If I had known that this was the only way to not get lost, then I maybe I would not have turned at all corridors. So that was what the paintings were for! It was an ingenious move, combining the arts and the directions! It was certainly impressing. Now the paintings didn't seem at all crowding, annoying, and useless! 

In the Coventry garden, Lady Ophelia noticed me. She was reading a book in one of the chairs surrounding a large wrought iron table with glass. Come to think of it, that large table and groups of chairs at the center of the garden must be the portion especially for the faculty. Lady Ophelia stood up, and approached me. She held my hand and led me to the center of the garden.

"Ladies!" she called the attention of everyone in a round and loud voice.

At her voice, the soft giggling and whispered gossips stopped. All of the attention came to the center. And me. At the sight of me, almost all the ladies gasped and their eyes rounded. I frowned slightly at their unwanted attention. Being princess was not at all fine and dandy at times when everyone simply _couldn't believe that you were in the same proximity as they were_. If they were teaching manners here, well I should hope that they teach these people not to gawk so much! It was disconcerting and embarrassing! Not to mention _rude._

But their gawking lasted only for about five seconds, and then suddenly, all of them were dropping curtsies, much to my horror. I thought Lady Ophelia and Lady Quenby clarified that this was not necessary! I turned a questioning gaze towards Lady Ophelia, who was not so disturbed. Maybe they didn't tell them yet…

"I'm sorry dear but we haven't told the ladies yet that you are going to be treated as an equal. We have taught them to curtsy immediately at the sight of royalty," Lady Ophelia whispered to me. She then turned her gaze. "Ladies, we have a new student in our wonderful institution," Lady Ophelia began when all of them stopped curtsying, "As you can see, our institution is once again graced with the presence of one of The Royal Highnesses. Your Highness, _Princess _Catleya." 

She could have just said, "She is a _princess so stop looking and kiss the ground she walks upon."_

"Welcome, Your Highness," chorused the ladies in perfectly lilted voices.

Lady Ophelia chuckled. "Now, ladies, we shall have none of that. Princess Catleya here has consented that we treat her as an equal. She is a student in Wistria just like you ladies. And as her Royal Ancestors had been treated before, she shall be seen as a lady like you. So you are all encouraged—"

"Not to stop breathing when she comes near," I mumbled.

"—to treat her like any other student. Meaning curtsies and addresses are not called for. And please, ladies, make her first day here welcoming." 

Lady Ophelia smiled at me, and then softly pushed me away. Great, now I was all alone. I didn't have a single friend in here.  And amidst all the prim and proper ladies I felt that I stood out like an ugly scent from many perfumes. They were all dainty and pretty creatures, while I was struggling not be stranded in one category of conformity. Good grief…how was I going last? How I hated Mother and Father! Hypocrites! I had heard that Father, when he and Mother were still young, greatly opposed my mother's finishing in Jenn. And Mother personally loathed finishing schools. But no. They still sent me to this place! And to think, they tried to uphold _justice_ in the kingdom of Kyrria when they couldn't even uphold justice in their own family! They probably knew that they were throwing me as feed for alligators. And Owen! He knew that I would suffer great torment. He was not a rascal brother, but a rather caring one so why in the world did he even _support_ this dreadful proposition? Damn them all—

"Pri—I mean, Catleya!" the very fist lady came to me. I stared blankly at her at first, but immediately forced a smile on my face. I shouldn't take my anger out on the innocent people who had nothing to do with my deportation. Besides, they could be the same people who could make Wistria more bearable. I was too sincere in loathing Wistria, forgetting that maybe, just _maybe, _I would actually enjoy my stay—somehow. 

The lady was actually very beautiful. Her blond hair was on a tight bun, but small wisps of her hair escaped it, framing her porcelain face. Her blue eyes were startlingly bright and clear, like the sky. Her full lips were pressed into a smile that released two dimples. She was shorter than me but then, it was probably because I was tall for my age, and she was almost the same age as I was. 

"I'm Sofia of Denta," she said brightly. "I'd be happy to get you acquainted with Wistria." She smiled again. Good grief, could she please stop doing that? She strangely reminded me of that Amara lady that Tristan introduced me to. I really didn't know why I wanted to mutilate Amara's face, and Sofia's resemblance simply encouraged me. _Stop thinking that!_

"I'm Catleya—" of what? I couldn't possibly say of Kyrria because that would mean royalty. And wasn't I supposed to be an equal, my blueblood put to shelf? "But you know that already. Pleased to meet you." 

"And you too," Sofia replied. "It would be so much fun to have you here in Wistria. We haven't had much new students to interact with. And our only interaction with the outside world is the weekly ball held on Friday. It is where we showcase our achieved learning in protocol." She glanced behind her, and seemed to signal two more girls to join her. 

Those two girls were lovely too. One had rich auburn hair falling behind her back in a half-ponytail. She was just as tall as I was, and she walked with the grace of a cat. The other was brown-haired. She was the most petite of the three, but curvaceous in every angle. They both smiled at me, hesitantly, as if they were arguing in their mind whether or not to curtsy or just say hello.

Sofia grinned at them. She gestured at the auburn haired one. "This is Gianna of Allem." Gianna almost curtsied but stopped herself. The first thing I noticed about her up-close was the hazel eyes with specks of green. She reminded me of an elf, for some reason. Sofia then gestured at the other one. "This is Lorena of Remad." Lorena just nodded. 

"Where is your room situated, Catleya?" Sofia asked. She took my hand and led me to a bench underneath one of the willows. This was one of the best places, I noticed. It fronted the fishpond nicely, was shaded by the sun, and was cool in climate. 

I tried to remember. "The West Wing." 

"Now I remember! You are in the room with the lady with the tiara, am I right?" Lorena suddenly said.

I just nodded. 

"I wondered who was going to stay there. I mean, all the rooms are occupied except that one. Now I know. It's specialized for roy—" She bit her tongue.

Sofia sat down on one of the chairs and invited me to do the same, which I promptly did. Gianna and Lorena did the same. When I sat down, I realized that many of the girls had been staring at us. Their faces were matter-of-fact. Some were whispering furiously to one another and glancing our way. Other just shrugged their shoulders or shook their heads. 

"You can treat me as an equal," I told the three of them, "but it doesn't necessarily mean that you have to pretend I'm not royalty at all. It's not as if it's taboo between us." 

Hearing that, Gianna opened the subject into royalty. "A lot of royalty had come here. Why, last year, Prince Tristan of Ayortha came to one of our weekly balls," Gianna told me. "He is most handsome." She giggled and the two others joined. 

"Oh yes, he is," I admitted but rather grudgingly. "We had gotten along nicely in Ayortha." 

All three eyes widened. "You were with him?" Gianna squeaked. I nodded. "How I wish we could trade places! I have had this kind of infatuation with him," she said. I just had to stare. "Well, almost all the young ladies in Wistria are smitten by him." Sofia and Lorena nodded.

Sofia said, "Well, who wouldn't? He is a prince, intelligent, courteous, and the most handsome man I had ever seen. Isn't he fortunate to have had inherited Queen Vanessa's good looks?" 

They all started talking about Tristan. They all recalled how he came to the ball, invited of course, and how all the ladies went there in their best hoping to impress him. They were chattering so fast but I couldn't hear a word they were saying. I was too busy in my thoughts.

I stared at all three of them. _Smitten? Almost all? Infatuation? How Tristan managed to snare the hearts of many ladies was something I simply couldn't fathom! He __was handsome, but surely there was more to him to them than just looks. And he couldn't have possibly spoken with each of the ladies personally. _Or had he? _After all, I had heard that women threw their feet all over him wherever he went. He was still seventeen! But how could Tristan, the ultimate antagonist of my childhood past, be stored in the hearts of so many ladies? Well, I had been forgetting some conclusions that happened in Ayortha. He _was_ no longer a prankster. He was intelligent, witty, funny…  And I did cherish my moments with. His company was something I had anticipated, as well enjoyed. Fine…then he did possess qualities that could make a lady swoon. Fine._

"—and Amara just had to make us all envious when she was fancied by him!" one of them said. It didn't register in my mine who said it. Rather, it was the person mentioned.

"What?" I hissed. Amara! The wench clutching Tristan's arm as if it were her life support? I didn't know why I simply despised the girl. She was just too perfect by my standards. And the way she explicitly stated through her actions that she loved Tristan with all her heart. And how she seduced him with her swaying derriere… There, I had admitted it to my consciousness: I hated Amara. I knew I was feeling hatred for her, the reason behind it—I had no idea at all. 

Their attention was on me, their eyes bigger than before. 

"What?" they echoed.

I shook my head. "Amara. Being the fancy of Tristan?"

The probably noted my casual use of his first name. I could already hear their minds thinking, _She's close to His Royal Highness Prince Tristan!! Oh how I wish I could trade places with her!_ Well damn them all. Tristan! _Tristan_, for crying out loud! 

_Admit it, you dummy. Tristan is one of the most eligible bachelors. Even if he is__ still seventeen…_

Sofia was quick to jump on the gossip. "You see, we all wanted to impress Prince Tristan, he being so handsome. But at the end of the ball, we realized that it was Amara, our old friend—" she was proud to say it, "—was the one who did catch his attention. I'll wager they are both in Ayortha now, having a wonderful time." 

Lorena sighed wistfully. "Amara could make a wonderful queen." 

"Oh yes they were in Ayortha together," I told them dryly. "But he's told me that they were only friends." 

Sofia shook her head. "I assure you, they aren't just friends. After the ball, Tristan attended the weekly ball whenever he could. That is, when he was near Kyrria. And he danced more dances with Amara than any other lady. We counted," she confided. 

"That lying…" I began to mumble. But I stopped myself. Why should I get so emotionally unstable just because Tristan lied to me? 

"Oh. So he's not coming to any weekly balls? Thank goodness. And I had met Amara. Tristan introduced her to me." 

Lorena's eyes lit. "Well, he introduced her to you! Surely that means something!" 

"I don't want to spoil your joy but he introduced Amara to me as a friend. And when I asked him if she was his beau, he told me to get lost." My grandiloquence was totally eradicated now. Watching my words was not really a habit of mine. 

Sofia frowned. "That's peculiar. Maybe he doesn't want anybody to know." 

"But his actions towards her during the ball were explicit and obvious. He likes Amara, if not love," I said, surprising myself with the bitterness in my voice. "It wouldn't matter if he didn't want anybody to know. His acts to her show the truth. If he hid it, it would be futile. No, he doesn't care if anybody knew. He cared if _I knew." _

Lorena laughed. "Whyever should Prince Tristan do so?" 

"You don't know?" I asked them in feigned shock. "And I thought our intense animosity is famous." Their already wide eyes were wider. Was it even possible? And they kept on widening their eyes. Was this the only expression of surprise according to protocol? "His affections for another lady would just provide me with another avenue to…blister his hide."

"Hated _him_?" Gianna managed to ask in a lilting and incredulous voice. 

"I didn't think that was humanly possible," Sofia gasped, horror escaping ever word.

"How could you hate such a _perfect man?" Lorena added melodramatically._

Perfect man! If I could only bite this nitwit's head off…

_Calm down, Catleya. Do not take your annoyance out on the innocent people._

I rolled my eyes at their overreaction. I mean, hating a man, no matter how perfect they were, was humanly possible. Besides, Tristan was far, _far _away from perfection. "To put it simply, he wasn't a perfect man when we were still children. He was the perfect imp. Now, we do get along splendidly, but we still tease each other." I grinned. "It's not that bad and _certainly it was humanly possible. Although, I must admit that the Tristan now is a long way from that whelp from my past."_

I swore they all gave a collective sigh. 

"Well, that settles it. But you are so fortunate, Catleya," Sofia sighed. "Prince Tristan is someone I really do want to meet. We did talk but not much." 

Lorena grinned. "It's all Amara's fault!" 

They all started chattering again. Mainly about Amara's utter fortuity. I didn't grasp much on their conversation. I didn't care who Amara was, I just knew that she was more than Tristan's friend. It made sense to me. Amara was beautiful, vivacious by the looks of her, and talented. Surely she was talented in the piano. She could even be the best student in Wistria. Why, it shouldn't be a surprise to me that she was Tristan's lover. All day long, I could count all the virtues she could possess. What was I compared to her? She was absolutely lovely and she had all the makings of a refined lady. Unlike me who was probably the most out of placed princess in all of history. 

Mother never had this kind of problem; of course, she _was_ Queen Ella, the Court Linguist, and the Great. She was born to be who she was, different and unique. She wasn't expected to be soft-spoken or graceful. Because she wasn't born royalty. She had every excuse to be who she was because no one expected her to be someone. Whilst I had to be in a different circumstance. I was born a princess, and I had no excuse to be who I wanted to be. Because they all thought that living with it for all your life meant that you would be accustomed to it, that eventually, you would bred into someone they wanted. Mother never had to fill anybody's shoes, while I had to. Everyone saw me as the daughter of the oh so great monarchs and the sister of the oh so admirable prince. They had preceded me with their deeds, and those deeds just took the attention of many. They saw how great they were, and were foreseeing greatness to the one next in line. 

"Ladies!" 

It was Lady Ophelia. I snapped out of my thoughts and glanced at the faculty circle. All the teachers had stopped talking and had shut their books close. They were all standing up. The other girls apparently knew what the matter was. They all stopped whatever they were doing, and stood up.

Beside me, Gianna groaned. "Leisure time is over. Now we have to go to our lessons." 

"You have a lot to catch up on, Catleya," Sofia informed. "Our curriculum for today is on sewing. We're all making our own handkerchiefs with our own designs. Our Sewing and Embroidery Mistress, Lady Constance, is rather strict. She is only satisfied with the tiniest and tidiest of stitches. And she would rip your project apart if she saw a lot of knots." 

I stared at her, disbelievingly. "Isn't that a bit harsh?" 

Lorena nodded. "It is." Her voice was not the least bit intimidated. In fact, she said it as if I was a real idiot for not believing. "It's the price to become a lady. Sometimes, we have to endure such harshness to be molded." 

We went inside the halls of Wistria again. Inside, we were led to the large Sewing Room. As usual it was in the color of some wisteria flower. This time it was not purple, but a light shade of pink. The wide windows were open, letting in the fresh air. There were about fifty individual walnut tables and chairs. Lorena gestured a place next to the windows. Sofia sat next to it, then Gianna, and then Lorena. I sat beside her, not caring whether or not I would be left out. As I sat down, I noticed that there were drawers on the tables. I opened it, and inside were all sorts of things. There were shiny metal needles of all sizes, and threads in every shade possible. There were about three different kinds of shears, pin cushions poked with pins with multicolored heads, chalk, needle threaders, and beeswax. There was also some drawing paper and a pencil, which use, I had yet to know. I was already _slightly _aware of how sewing worked. You put thread through the needle and pierce the cloth with it. Simple as that. Or so I thought. 

Though I did have teachers back in Kyrria, the things that were taught were actually _relevant things. By relevant, I meant things that actually could make an impact to one's life, and not some silly hobby. And not too be conceited, but I was a princess, and princesses only sewed for leisure. But apparently, I didn't even want to sew so I didn't ask for a sewing teacher. I didn't think my knowledge in that was crucial. But maybe I really just didn't like to acquaint myself with this. I __had demanded for a music and dance teacher—and I didn't actually need that to be a princess. Fine, then I really disliked sewing. And while all these relevant subjects were stored in my mind—history, philosophy, arts, languages, literature, and the like—I was completely dumbfounded with all the things found in the drawer. _

Why do you need three different kinds of shears for sewing? You just needed to cut the fabric, for crying out loud! The mundane paper-cutting scissor could just be used! And all these needles! I had assumed that you could only use _one _needle while sewing… But the different sizes surely meant something. Bigger needles meant bigger holes and surely, no one would like that… 

How ironic. I prided myself to have a bank of knowledge, yet I didn't know the first thing about sewing or embroidery. So how was I going to make a handkerchief?

Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena had already taken out their handkerchiefs. They were able to do it a few days ago, and they were right that I had to catch up. But I really didn't know how! 

I didn't want to ask Lorena about it. She looked apt in sewing. I decided to swallow my courage and ask the Sewing Mistress. If she would come. 

An old lady entered the room. She was well beyond her youthful years, and it showed through her wrinkly skin and skinny arms. She was also statuesque, which only made her resemble a pole. Her graying hair was on a tight bun behind her, giving her the impression of a stern and cold spinster—which I honestly think she was. Her beady eyes behind spectacles surveyed the room, making sure that all the ladies had their sewing out and were starting. She spotted one who was still chatting noisily with her seatmate. She focused all her attention there.

A whisper. "You better take out your sewing," the girl next to me advised.

I looked at her. Her skin was tanned and even, so different from my pale tone. Her hair was dark and in a solitary braid down her back. She was smiling at me, and I didn't doubt the genuineness of it. Her hazel eyes were bright with laughter. She bent her head to make a tiny stitch on her handkerchief. The design was principal on yellow roses. 

I admitted, "I don't have any yet." 

She nodded. "Oh yes. I remember now that you are a new student. I'm Elysia, but you can call me Ely." She glanced at the Sewing Mistress who was scrutinizing another handkerchief. "It's best that you wait for Lady Constance to come to you. She hates assertive ladies." 

She hated assertive ladies? Oh dear…then I could already adumbrate her antagonism towards me.

 "I'm Catleya," I said. Then I bit my lip. "Is it true that Lady Constance rips apart any project she finds monstrous?" 

Ely giggled but quietly. "That's ridiculous. She keeps on threatening us she will do it if she finds our projects disgusting. And so far, no one wants to attest to that challenge. The only problem with her is that she would continuously badger you if she isn't satisfied. Although she is quite nice, if you get under her good graces. A feat which is next to impossible, come to think of it." 

I smiled at her. Ely glanced again at Lady Constance. She was now coming our way. When she did see that, Ely immediately bent down her head and sewed. But before that, she gave me a wink.

Lady Constance glowered at me. "What do we have here? Where is your sewing?" 

"I am new here, Madame," I answered. "And I am yet to start my sewing. It's just that I wish for your instruction before I proceed." 

This was a fancy way of saying "I am as addled as an ox, so you better tell me what to do!" 

The Sewing Mistress's antagonism was lessened by a tad bit. "Oh." She left me and got something from her own drawer. She returned with a square of white cotton fabric. 

"You will use this for making the handkerchief." She showed me the cloth.

I stared at it. It was square and measured half my arm. "This is for a handkerchief?" I blurted out before I could bite my tongue. It was big enough for a scarf!

Lady Constance ignored it. "Yes it is for making a handkerchief. You fold the edges by one inch to make a hem. Seal it using the short walking stitch. Then, make your own pattern and sew it on the handkerchief. I expect the patterns to be feminine. The final result should tidy, with back stitches or running stitches for the outline and satin stitches or fill stitches for the main coloring of your handkerchief. When you finish your handkerchief, you shall proceed on making a pillowcase, like what the other girls had already started." 

She left me. She must have assumed that I knew what walking stitches were…or back stitches…or satin stitches… I gulped. I really didn't know a thing about embroidery or sewing. 

Ely noticed my chagrin. She giggled. "That's alright. Lady Constance always assumes that every single girl knew embroidery already. She keeps on forgetting why ladies come here, that is, to learn how to embroider. Don't worry. I'll help you." 

During the whole period, Ely taught me all the stitches necessary for the project. They were quite easy, by the looks of it. I was certain that I would get the hang of it sooner or later. She handed me a needle with thread already, and I proceeded with the hem. While we did our work, she told stories on some of the teachers. They all made me laugh, because I didn't think they had such an interesting history. 

"Our Singing Mistress, Lady Murielle, has this fixation with looking young, although she is already in her late fifties. Her hair is the color of darkest ebony, but that is just an overdose of hair dye." 

"How do you know all this—ow!" I had stabbed myself with the needle. I was yet to begin and now my finger had a tiny spot of blood. 

Ely shook her head. "How many times already?" 

"This is the second time," I grimaced.

She grinned. "Once, a girl who had been here two years ago stabbed herself too many times during sewing that her projects all had spots of blood." 

"I'll make sure that won't happen again," I answered with a smile. 

Ely nodded. "Now, Lady Quenby, our Dancing Mistress—" 

"She dances?" 

"Yes. Well, she is a splendid dancer but she's very sore on dancing with male partners. That's why she never dances during our weekly ball. Only scrutinizes us if we learned properly in her lessons." 

"Why?" 

"I heard that a man had once danced with her, but only accomplished making her toes very sore. Apparently, she had the idea that all men dance that way." 

Lady Constance was suddenly beside me. "Oh my dear," she gasped and glanced at my work. "What have you done??" she chided. "So many knots…crooked lines…large gaps!" 

I didn't say anything. 

"What happened, Catleya?" she demanded rather hotly.

I decided to answer at the most truthful way possible. "I sewed." 

"_Sewed?!_" Lady Constance's voice was gripped with such agony and incredulity that she made me feel like I was a tragedy to the sewing culture. This is not sewing! This is vandalizing a perfectly good-looking square of cloth! You have tarnished its surface, defaced its natural beauty—"

Well what was I to say? I didn't know a thing about sewing, and I had Ely to thank for teaching me, a job she should have been doing!

Lady Constance revived from her horror. She was fanning herself with her hand, as if she really couldn't believe I was incompetent in sewing. Girls had glanced up from their sewing and were looking at us quizzically. 

"I expect a better output next class. After all, I had heard from the finishing school mistresses of Jenn that your mother had lovely stitches—neat, tiny, straight, and certainly without knots! You should be more like your mother, from what I've heard." 

When she turned her back, I glared at her. I was not my mother, and I would most certainly not show Lady Constance that I could sew, even if eventually I might learn. If she expected me to be the mirror of my mother in finishing school, then she was wrong! Then and there, I decided that I would make the messiest stitches possible, just to irk her. That would show her that I was not Queen Ella, but Catleya, the girl who did not do well in sewing.

The needle found my skin again. 

~*~

I found out that Ely was from Bast, a town near the Elves' Forest. She was the third member of her family to go to Wistria. So far, she had enjoyed her stay. She told me that Wistria was not all bad, that I shouldn't have such negative thoughts about it. She said that at first she did feel the same way, but she realized that the more she hated the place, the more the place hated her. "Wistria would be more unbearable if you make it to be," she told me. 

I enjoyed Ely's company. But after sewing, Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena dragged me to them again.

I thought dinner would be uneventful, until I was informed that Manners Class was conjoined with mealtimes. And Manners Class was rather eventful. We should all act accordingly. I knew protocol like the back of my hand, not because I cared, but because it was required of me. Aside from Kyrrian protocol, I knew Ayorthaian, Elfin, Gnomic, Keneisan and some other kind of protocol. It would be a great insult to both kingdoms if a monarch acted improperly during a visit. 

Lady Juliana was our Manners Mistress. Her hair was brown and her eyes were a mesmerizing gray. She was a beautiful lady, but her attitude was as cold as she was lovely. She brought with her a sense of superiority that could make us just shut up. She was one of those ladies that I knew I shouldn't test. I had planned to act accordingly, so I could practice at the real moments. Different kinds of protocol for each particular kingdom or race. The last thing I needed to do was to disgrace my kingdom with boorish manner in front of the monarchs of another kingdom. 

I was seated next to Ely this time. Sofia, Gianna, and Lorena had seated themselves next to the Manners Mistress. I had declined sitting next to her, wary as I was with her strictness. The three of them wanted to brag their spectacular behavior to her. Not I, so I just seated myself next to Ely. At least she was not so sappy as them. 

The first thing served was a salad. "Put your napkins on your lap, ladies, the King would be ashamed of you if you don't," Lady Juliana instructed as when the salad was served by maids.

"Actually, he wouldn't care less" I replied without thinking. That was my first stupid move. 

Lady Juliana glared at me. Ely glanced at me, warning in her eyes.

"Well, he really wouldn't do care less," I replied sheepishly.

"Eat your salad," she snapped. 

I rolled my eyes when she was not looking. Ely shook her head. I noticed the three girls smiling. I acted accordingly of course, until she mentioned that I should be like my father, who followed protocol even while he was asleep. Her tone of voice challenged me to argue with her, but I didn't. Father was mannered, but while asleep? And why did she always invoke him? She kept on glancing at me every single time she used Father, Mother, or Owen as particular invocations. She was daring me to correct her. And I so wished I could. Mother did not have a spoon for every mouth of wild rice. Father did not use a different spoon for specific types of cherries.

I had suppressed all urges to debate with Lady Juliana about my family. I couldn't pretty much contain my laughter because it was all so ridiculous. My family was not so fanciful with dinnerware! I told Ely all this, and she just shook her head.

"Lady Juliana used to invoke you too, but I guess it would be useless, considering you would be here to demonstrate," she teased.

"Over my dead body." 

When dinner was about to be concluded with dessert, I congratulated myself for only being lippy once. But my congratulations were too soon. 

The dessert was vanilla cake, topped with cream and icing. I took the small fork to my left and started eating. The cake was very delicious, thought no where in comparison with Mandy's but I enjoyed it nonetheless. My savoring experience was interrupted with Lady Juliana's voice reprimanding us.

"Turn up the corners of your lips into a small smile while chewing your cake, although don't open your mouth," she said. "If you do, our Prince Owen would propose to you on the spot." 

There were giggles and blushes, and I soon saw all of them smiling as they chewed their cake. Ely's lips were smiling, but I highly doubted she believed this.

But I was already choking but this time, so I couldn't really observe them. Owen? My brother Owen dropping down on one knee to propose to a girl because she was smiling while _chewing _cake?_ _

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You are greatly mistaken, Lady Juliana, to think that my brother would only be smitten to distraction by a rather jovial looking mastication. I mean, the other invocations were tolerable and rather funny, but this one is downright outrageous!!" I laughed out loud. 

Lady Juliana glared at me again. "No breakfast for you, Catleya." 

That didn't register in my mind too well. 

"You are depriving me of daily nutrients because I just pointed out the obvious wrong?" I demanded. 

Yes, that was incredibly and unbelievably stupid of me. This day was probably one of the days I had completely lost my faculties and wits. 

"Don't fight her, Catleya," Ely mumbled.

"You are not permitted to speak unless called upon. No lunch." 

"But—"

 "If you want to keep your dinner, I suggest you not speak at all." 

I swallowed my tongue along with a forkful of vanilla cake. I was not crazy, and I would most certainly not risk my dinner! But inside, I was a torrent of emotions. Corporal punishment was abusive! Especially when food was concerned. One simply could not just take away a daily necessity. And I was angry with this not because I was forced into it, but because people actually suffer. What if I had gotten a stomach worm because of this? What if I died because of this? But what was I to do? I was not a princess here, and I have no intention to be. They would tell me; anyway, that entrance to Wistria would mean punishment when needed. I was fully aware of these kinds of punishments. How many ladies had already starved to insanity only because they were displaying assertiveness?

As I was chewing cake, I heard a girl sneer, "Look at her, pretty princess. Couldn't believe that she would not eat. It's all her fault, now her spoiled royal arse cannot believe what had happened. Now she would call upon the king to save her." 

Yes, it _was _my entire fault, but I couldn't believe it not because I was a spoiled brat! How dare she! That wench! I searched in vain on who that girl was, and noticed Sofia leaning at Lorena, whispering. Lorena was glancing at me, a condemning gleam in her eyes. Gianna was giggling. When they saw my eyes on them, they straightened up, and gave me all sympathetic smiles.

When I told Owen I would be surrounded by the sugar-coated giggles of the snide harpies, I didn't know I was putting a curse on myself. 

~*~

There! Nice LONG chapter!! (",) Yes!! I have conquered the writer's block!! And I now have plans for the next chapter!!! Yipee!!! But sadly, it would come up after a long time. Too busy. I mean it. And I'm still fresh from defeat . And I'm failing CHEMISTRY!!! ARGH!!!! I JUST GOT THE DREADED FRIGGIN' WHITE SLIP THAT TELLS YOUR PARENTS "YOU DAUGHTER IS DOING UNSATISFACTORILY IN HER CHEMISTRY STUDIES"!!! Now how in the world am I going to let them know?? Ohki…gonna stop ranting now………………………………………..

THANKS SO MUCH TO THE REVIEWERS!!! LOVE YA ALL!!! And thanks to those who read this fic… sorry I don't get to reply to your messages . 

**This chapter is dedicated to Ms. Ponce, the sewing teacher in my school. Yes, Miss, I still remember your reaction when I passed my sewing project. I will never forget your glasses-magnified He eyes becoming even larger when you saw my "sewing" if you consider such grotesqueness sewing.... And yes, the experience of Catleya in this chapter is in fact, based on the true to life experience of yours truly. Hehehe, I am a terrible sewer, and I swore, I thought my teacher would cry on my ugly project…**

I posted a new story by the way. Here's the summary. It's the story I ...posted last chapter. I figured to just get it over it and post it. 

Preferring wit and intelligence over beauty and grace, Alva lived a life that consisted of books and learning—and she was happy with that. But an unlikely meeting fueled the flames of envy and hatred, starting an inferno she would have to face.


	10. The Virtue Of Sovereignty

"Now, read from the book, Catleya," Lady Ophelia instructed me.

With all my might, I tried to suppress a groan. All the other girls were now having their nocturnal leisure time, while I was stuck in the Library, learning to be a princess. Lady Ophelia handed me a large hard-bound book. The red leather cover smelled of muck, and its pages were yellowed. The title, written in gold ink, was _The Virtue Of Sovereignty_. 

"There are many qualities that are required of a sovereign." I cleared my throat. "These virtues, when fulfilled, will serve the monarch at all times possible, and in turn, serve his or her kingdom at the best way possible. There are two categories for virtues. The first classification is the _Concentrated Virtues_. These virtues are those that should be fulfilled by the monarch, and only the monarch. These virtues will serve as guides to the next classification of virtues called _Civic Virtues. _Civic virtues are the virtues the monarch must help the kingdom obtain. And thorough knowledge of these civic virtues will be most valuable." 

I glanced up from the book and to Lady Ophelia. "Are you serious?" 

She glared at me, painfully reminding me of my lesson with Lady Juliana. I should learn how to shut my trap if I would expect myself to survive for at least a week. "Yes, I am serious. Now carry on. We don't want to stay up till midnight." 

I cleared my throat. "This is a brief outline of the Concentrated Virtues. _Societal Authority_ is a sense of social standing, obtained through experience and dutifulness and hard work. Possession of _Humor _means possession courtesy, openness, and friendliness. _Mercy _is the mildness and gentleness—" I stopped. "By mildness or gentleness, does this book mean I should be mild and gentle in demeanor, or mild and gentle in giving out punishments?" 

"On demeanor, Catleya. That is why it is a concentrated virtue," Lady Ophelia replied patiently. "But read on, Catleya. You will encounter a chapter solely for the virtue of mercy on the subsequent days."

I tried as hard I could to suppress a groan. "A sense of self-worth and personal pride is _Dignity_, something not to be forgotten. _Tenacity_ is one of the most important virtues. It is the strength of mind and the ability to stick to one's purpose. While there are many a sovereign who were notorious for the extravagant lifestyles, _Frugality_ is considered one of the essential virtues. Frugality, being an economic mind, with simplicity of style, though not to the point of miserliness. The virtue of _Gravity_ should be seen in every action done, as gravity is the sense of importance of the matter at hand, responsibility and earnestness. _Respectability_ is also a virtue closely tied to gravity. This is also a respect for the natural order of things, socially, politically, and religiously. This includes the ideas of patriotism and devotion to others. _Humanity_ could be cultivated through education, as it is the virtue solely focused on learning, refinement, and civilization—" I stopped again. "Well, I have this already, I think. Will I be learning it again?" 

"No," Lady Ophelia replied wearily. 

She must be really bored. How many times had she heard this before? "_Prudence_ is foresight, wisdom, and personal discretion, and essential virtue for a sovereign. _Wholesomeness_ is health and cleanliness, not just on body but on heart, mind, and spirit. _Self-Control _is self-explanatory. Lastly, a sovereign must have the virtue of _Truthfulness_, honesty in dealing with the kingdom."

I closed the book. "You know what I think?" I told Lady Ophelia, not caring whether she would listen or not. "I think that this book should not be concentrated only to sovereigns. It's unfair. All these qualities are actually very well suited to every kind of person. I wouldn't mind referring this last virtue to three of your odious students." I refused to even put a name for them in my mind. 

Lady Ophelia just stared at me. She really must have a trouble comprehending me. "Catleya, this book is for princesses, not nobility. And unlike nobility, it is highly mandatory for monarchial and ruling figures to practices such virtues." 

"But most of your students are heirs to lands; their fathers are earls, dukes, barons, viscounts, counts, marquises, and the like! Not only is this study of virtues maddening, it is discriminating!" I protested. 

"It seems that you are in a very great need of lecturing on the virtue _Mercy._ Now please, contain yourself!" 

"I will not contain myself!" I screamed at her. 

"You will! And I am in painful knowledge that you are deprived of breakfast and lunch tomorrow. If you want to maintain your remaining dinner, contain yourself." 

I did contain myself. Yes, I was assertive; I wanted to speak my mind. But I also, fortunately, still possessed a tiny ounce of sanity at that moment. That tiny ounce enabled me to realize that it would be suicide if I continue trying to object to the Wistrian Ladies.

Lady Ophelia sighed. "Thank goodness gracious. Now, I shall leave you here in the library to finish your studies. By tomorrow night, I expect you to finish the first two chapters of _The Virtue of Sovereignty_. You will soon find out that these chapters are focused on the Concentrated Virtues of Societal Authority and Humor. I shall check on you after an hour." She stood up, and gave me the smoothest curtsy I had ever seen, something surprising for someone her size. She left the library.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. I leaned back on the velveteen dark violet sofa and closed my eyes. The Library could have been my favorite place in all of Wistria. There were tons of books, displayed on cases that reached the ceiling. The bookcases were made out of dark wood, and smelled like it. The carpets were misplaced tapestries that lie on the floor. They showed scenes from epics, legends, famous poems, and the like. There were great many armchairs, sofas, and lounge chairs at the end of each bookcase or grouped in one corner. There were lamps at many places, ensuring adequate light. I suspected that during daytime, the dark violet draperies would be pushed to the sides of the great windows to let in the light. All in all, the Library gave a warm and roomy feeling, despite its spaciousness. But when I realized that I would have to spend every night in here just to learn insufferable princess virtue lessons, the Wistrian Library was suddenly an epitome, a culmination, of my dislike for this place.

The thick book was still on my lap, closed and waiting to be read. I groaned, and decided then and there that I would not torture myself with reading these tedious lessons. It was not because I took for granted virtues that could help (if I did want to be a princess in the first place, which lately, I realized I did not want to be) but because I firmly believed that these virtues could not be learned through reading boring notes. It should be experienced to be learned.

I shook my head and stood up. Lady Ophelia should just drown in her propriety. _No, I will not read it_. Besides, she would just let me recite it again. I could just smuggle this book to my room, and then read it there. When I wanted to, if I would want to. Hopefully.

"Catleya? What are you doing in the Library at this hour?" 

It was Ely. She had come in from the front door, but I had not noticed her. 

I didn't know now if I should trust her. Sofia, Lorena, and Gianna proved to be vixens just by talking behind me. The only way I could cope with the destruction of our just "blossoming" friendship (and I think of this with heavy sarcasm) was to completely ignore them. I would just upset myself if I thought more about it. I didn't know if Ely was one of those vixens. I wanted to trust her, and I so greatly enjoyed her company. But what if all the girls here just wanted to be friends with me because I was a princess? Because connection with me could prove priceless in the future? 

Ely deserved a chance. I could already see in her that she was not a vixen; she was neither a siren nor harpy. "Lady Ophelia insisted I learn my lessons immediately." 

"What kind of lessons are these?" She approached me and sat beside me on the sofa. She took the book from my lap. "_The Virtue of Sovereignty?_" She read, her voice incredulous.

I nodded. "A book the worst of its kind. Apparently, I needed to learn how to be a princess before being one." 

She chuckled. Ely was a refreshing change. At least she didn't giggle. "How preposterous. No one could learn to be one by reading. You should experience it first." 

I grinned at her. "My sentiments exactly. But I won't learn it. I don't even plan to read it." 

"I think you should. Lady Ophelia would be very displeased." 

"And what do I care? I'm not afraid of her. And I would be the one who would pay for my actions, not her, so she could just leave me alone," I replied stubbornly. "By the by, what are you doing here?" 

"What do you expect? We are in a library, and what do we do there? We read. I have been trying to finish this book I discovered. It's a rather beautiful story, written by Lady Elspeth. The title is _Eliza_."

And that was how we started discussing about books. Ely loved to read, albeit she was being ridiculed by so many because of her interest. Many girls laughed at her because they concluded she would be nothing more than a spinster lady with books as a constant companion. We moved to a secluded corner of the library, behind a large bookshelf. If anybody came in, we would be noticed by them. We didn't want any disturbances, and Lady Ophelia might punish us if she saw us dallying about. Better hide than be discovered.

"The Library is useless in here. The only thing that matters to the girls of Wistria is ladylikeness. There's no pursuit for knowledge. Nothing at all. But it's better that no one uses this library. Most of the time, I have the books to myself." 

"Then why do you enroll here? You would be much better of in a linguist school." 

Ely shrugged her shoulders. "It's been a family tradition that all the females attend this school." 

I looked at the clock. It was almost one hour. "You have to leave now Ely. Lady Ophelia said she would return to me after an hour. I don't want you getting into trouble." 

Ely nodded. "Alright. But I'll be in my room if you need me. I think it's about three doors from yours. Don't worry, there's a nameplate." She grinned at me and stood up. "Good luck. You need it more than I do." 

She left, and I was soon all alone in the Library. I opened the appalling book and read the first chapter. It was all about _Societal Authority_. The miniscule letters and the monotony of the book were already boring me, quicker than I had imagined. Books rarely wearied me, but this one did. I was almost nodding off to sleep when my mind was invaded by nothing else but the sugar-coated giggles of the snide harpies.

"How positively devilish of you, Sofia, to have thought of such a spectacular idea. She would not suspect a thing!" My heart stopped at that voice, as it was so painfully high-pitched and at the same time painfully memorable. And the name just had to verify it all. It was Lorena. 

"Of course," replied Sofia. "We all know that having a princess for a friend would boost our status in society." 

"And," it was Gianna's voice this time, "soon we might even be getting royal favors!" 

I was in such a state that I couldn't even distinguish their voices from one another, their words the only thing entering my ears and sending knives to my heart.

"Every body knows of our intentions though—" 

"So? It's not like our spoiled princess would." 

"Everybody knows that princesses just sit and look pretty. There's more hair than head." 

"There had got to be more hair than head especially because she befriended that bookworm Elysia. Everybody knows that Elysia is but an odd little wench who doesn't deserve to be in Wistria." 

"She must be losing her already very little amount of wits." 

"She couldn't even sew."

And they all laughed.

"But we should strengthen our friendship with her." 

"Most especially since Amara would be arriving."

There were excited giggles in the air.

I couldn't quite describe my feelings at that moment. I had known this of course, expected it even. But the thought of betrayal, that my status as a princess was the only thing motivating them to make friends with me was gripping at my chest. They thought me stupid and dense to not realize. My acquaintance with those three wenches was not strong and bonded, but it had affected me badly. Did everybody think of me this way? Did they think that I was but a simple stepping stool to get to higher places? And the gall of them to think so, the audacity to assume I was stupid enough to do so! But, if they weren't clumsy clods with their insulting, I might have been a puppet of theirs to play around and use… 

And how dare they insult Ely! She had not done anything to them, and yet they spoke about her with such spite that it was unbelievable! Someone had to put them in place, and I wanted to be that someone. 

I stood up from my secluded sofa, and went in search of them. Sofia, Lorena, and Gianna could have chosen a better place to discuss their deviousness. But instead they chose the main lobby of the Library, a conspicuous place. The sound of my footsteps had alerted them of my coming. The look on their faces was unforgettable. They all held stark pallor on their faces. Their eyes were the widest I had ever seen. I could have laughed then but now was not the time of laughing. 

"Good evening, Sofia, Lorena, Gianna," I said, my voice dripping with fraudulence. I never felt so false, so wicked. But they had been wicked to me with their assumptions and plans, and they were wicked to the innocent Ely. They were getting what they deserved, and I wouldn't care less.

"Catleya! How long have you been here?" Sofia managed to choke out.

"If you're wondering if we heard it all, the answer is yes. Unfortunately for you, I heard it all. It's really a miracle of nature, how shadows could hide light and persons alike. It's a pitiful shame—a real pitiful shame—that a particular shadow hid me." 

Lorena had the gall to blame me. "You were eavesdropping—" 

"And fortunately I did," I countered, "because if I didn't then you'd be winning the game of fake friends. I know all about it, my dear beloved friends. I'm just a stepping stool, nothing more nothing less. But apparently, the three of you don't know that I rarely forget when trespassed. My vengeance is much worse than my anger. Fortunately, that vengeance rarely comes out. It only comes out on rare occasions such as…say, scheming wenches backstabbing me and formulating plans of social standing?" 

"We weren't doing those things!" Sofia retorted. 

I shook my head. "And you had to drag Ely along. You could have had a greater chance of being forgotten if you had not dragged her along your dirty plans. For your information, Ely is a better person and friend than the three of you, times twenty! If she's not worthy of Wistria, then what can you about your worthiness?" 

"We didn't mean what you heard!" Gianna cried. The two others simultaneously nodded. 

"Contrary to what you believe in," I told them, "I am far from the witless spoiled princess. And a blind person could easily distinguish truth from falsity, especially when it comes to three vixens like you. I have more head than hair, more head than the three of you combined! So if you dare cross paths with me again, especially if you want to use my like a doll, I advise to think twice. This is no fanfaronade. My vengeance is something an ogre would run away from." 

I waited for them to speak, to plead their hopeless cause.

"I didn't mean to—"

"How could you say that about me??" 

"No one would want to use you!" 

"—so don't be vexed with me!" 

"My actions were wholly understandable!" 

"I don't want your vengeance!!" 

Sofia, Lorena, and Gianna were all speaking about themselves. Apparently, they had abandoned one another just to return under my favor.

"It is not I who need princess lessons. In fact, I wouldn't mind lecturing you on the virtue of Truthfulness." The look on their faces conveyed a clear question, mixed with everlasting hope for salvation: _So you forgive me?_ "But the last thing I would want to happen is to have anything to do with any of you. Consider this our last babble ladies." I turned my back on them, prepared to leave them bemoaning their fate. But apparently, I wasn't satisfied with their reactions, and I needed a farewell action for them. "To give you a taste of my revenge, I would make sure the most admired person in your book wouldn't come near you."

They were paler.

Lorena whispered with horror, "Not Prince Tristan…you cannot be that cruel…" 

Actually, I didn't who the most admired person in their book was. I was hoping that in the course of begging sanctuary from my revenge, they would expose the identity of that certain person. I had expected some Wistrian Lady, some other girl from the school, even a known lady. But Tristan?! If I wasn't angry with them, I would have laughed out of the incredulity of it. Instead I swallowed all the hilarity I was feeling, and maintained the stone expression.

"Indeed, I cannot be that cruel. In this circumstance, I am but a mirror, reflecting your own odious behavior back to you."

I left them for my room, at that word. But I could already hear some sad sounds—sniffing and small moans. Others might have walked away from this scene, light-hearted and fulfilled. They would be glad, possessing neither regret nor guilt. But I wasn't one of those people. Was it simply that I could act wicked, yet loathing it every single step? Yes, those girls deserved it, for all their schemes against me and their insults for Ely. 

Three doors from my room, I stopped and knocked on the door. 

"Who is it?" 

"Ely, it's me Catleya," I answered.

After a few seconds the door opened. Ely stood before me, hair in disarray but eyes pretty much awake. She grinned. "I was reading." 

I nodded. "I was just betrayed," I blurted out. I looked at Ely, trying to get an answer, anything!

She looked at me with question mark on her thoughts. My silence did not give her the answer but she did conclude something. "Oh no," she whispered with remorse. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry; I didn't tell you Catleya. But yes, we all knew it would. We thought you knew…and their trio had been known to be social climbers, obsessed with what they want… We should have done something. But we didn't." 

I shook my head. "No need to be sorry. I might just accuse you of treachery for hanging out their dirty laundry. But I couldn't quite believe it, that someone, anyone, could be as scheming as them! If you heard what they were calling me! And even _you!"_

Ely reached out and took my hand. "You need not worry yourself for people like them. They will just waste your time and energy," she said and offered me a smile.

"I cannot have them think that I could be played around," I told her. "So I just stooped to their level. I threatened them too, and it doesn't really sit well with me." 

'But you did something and what else could you do? But we—_I_—should have told you! If I had then maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way…" 

"No one, especially you, is at fault. I presume that they are frighteningly intimidating to our peers. After all, they are obsessed." I smiled wickedly, my mood fast going for the better. "But damn them all!" I cursed. Then I sighed. "Well, I suppose you would want to return to your reading now. And I still have to sew my forsaken cloth." 

Ely chuckled. "I'm sure you could accomplish that task. It's quite simply and even fun once you get the hang of it." 

I nodded. "Let's just hope I would on time. Good night." 

"Good night." 

~*~

When I woke up the next morning, I knew this day would not be kind to me. Yesterday was a prerequisite for today. Yesterday, the clouds had been in great numbers, albeit holding in their breath of rain. But when I woke up, the rain was already pouring gleefully and colliding with the ground. The air was a bit chilly, and someone had closed the large windows of my room. But the rain was not the unfortunate part of my day. I soon found out when a vexed Lady Ophelia cornered me before I came for breakfast. She was angered that I left the Library and went immediately to my room. I told her that I assumed I was permitted to return since it was pass curfew hours. Amazingly, she agreed with me. She left with a massive assignment before she left me though. 

"I want you to read and criticize the chapter solely on _Societal Authority_. Write me a five-page essay on that particular chapter, complete with examples drawn from the histories of many other kingdoms. You will find sufficient resources in the Library." 

I gaped at her, unbelieving of her…academic curriculum. But then, I decided to make my normally miniscule handwriting into large, loopy, space-occupying handwriting so then I would be able to fill five pages easily. 

During the breakfast of pastries and dairy, I could feel glares centered on me, and I knew exactly where it came from. But then, they were also probably laughing because although there was a splendid banquet of breakfast meals, I was unable to partake to them. The gray-eyed Lady Juliana had her eyes on me, seemingly willing for me to melt. She was a veritable monster, and she forced me to sit down on the breakfast table and watch all the others eat food. She wanted me to truly savor starvation. But the witch proved herself a bit otherwise when she permitted me to take a glass of milk. Witch of Damnation nevertheless.

"This is going to be a long day," I grumbled to Ely, who was seated beside me.

She bit on her bagel. "It is always a long day in Wistria." She sighed as she chewed. When she swallowed, she whispered, "I wish you could eat now. But we'll sneak something out of this room for you." 

I glanced out of the window. "Well, at least it is raining. Somehow, my mood is better when it rains." 

"Perhaps you have empathy with water," answered Ely. "You do know about the Elfin superstitions." 

I nodded. "I suppose. Those things do intrigue me."

"Nevertheless, despite the rain, I have a strong feeling that this _will _be a very boring day, albeit a day that would be against us," she told me. "Just looking at one direction would give us three glares all at once, as if we were target practice dummies for archery." 

My laugh was soft and sardonic. "Indeed. But I wouldn't care less. They brought this upon themselves. By the by, do you know Lady Amara?" 

"Yes, of course," she answered. "She is said to be coming to the weekly ball." 

"No wonder they were talking about her." I took my glass of milk and drank. It was a very slow day. As if all I had chewed and swallowed were still caught at my throat, taking time as it slides down to my stomach. My "supposed" handkerchief was sitting on my lap, its ugly design a stark contrast to the fine embroidery of my gown. But I had meant it to be there on my lap so I would be able to do it and prevent other grievances caused by the Wistrian mistresses. As if Lady Juliana was not enough!

Someone screamed. 

The milk that I had drunk almost came up to my nose. Some of the girls were coughing. Ely, fortunately for her, was just slicing through her bread and just dropped her knife with surprise. Lady Juliana's eyes did not look at me for once since breakfast time. Instead, she searched frantically for whoever screamed. 

The one who did was a servant girl who came in from the door leading to the kitchen. Her eyes were huge and she was breathing unevenly. She quickly ran to Lady Juliana, the only present mistress, and wailed, "A linguist! A linguist!!" 

Manners Mistress was equally despaired. "What do you mean linguist!" 

"Ogres! Ogres had attacked Sikes Farm!! A party of travelers had come across the attack, and thankfully there were knights! But the man said they are too many!! A linguist!! Please, Lady Juliana! My sister is there!!" 

"Lady Sylvia!" she exclaimed. "Girls, stay here while I go to the conservatory." 

The girl was now slowly crying, tears slipping down her face. Many girls were already whispering, telling each other every detail they knew about that farm. 

'That farm is very near Wistria!" 

"We could be in danger!

"Ogres!" 

But I couldn't pay any attention to them. Instead, the servant girl was the one focused in my mind. She had not left her place, and tears were coming down her eyes. Suddenly, she returned my gaze. Her eyes widened, disbelieving. But I turned away from her now, unable to bear it. I was a linguist, and I could help. But I was scared. Ogres…they weren't child's play. And they wouldn't amount to the practice in the linguist schools. But the girl had not erased me form my mind. Instead, she ran to me and almost fell before she got to me.

"Princess!" she wailed. Her eyes were frantic, tear stricken. 

I stared back at her, horror coming over me in waves. Not because of her, but because I could almost feel the anguish from her, reaping across me, tracing me with vile substance. 

"Princess, I have heard of your skills…please, please, help me." She sobbed uncontrollably now. 

I bit my lip. I had to help. I must. And if I didn't I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself without disgust. I knew that my next words could mean death in a matter of minutes. "Where is the farm?" I asked.

"What?" Ely said beside me.

She looked at me without believing. She must have thought I would shove her away without mercy. "Ten minutes away," she answered in a mindless tone. "Twenty ogres."

I turned to Ely sharply. "I have to help," I said to her.

"Are you mad, Catleya? You cannot go there! The Wistrian ladies would be furious. And you will die…".

I nodded, cold dread building up in my stomach. "I have to help Lady Sylvia. One person cannot handle twenty ogres! I know, I've studied this! Also, if I don't help, I feel like I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if—" 

Ely shook her head. "I know…but do you know what you are getting into?"

"I know," I replied, my voice quivering. "I know…but those people need all the help they could get," I answered firmly. Then I turned to the girl, "Please, tell me the way to Sikes." 

~*~*~*~*~

ARGH!!! LATE UPDATE AGAIN!!! I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!!!!!!! 

And I hope you like the chapter…oohh…cliffie…is this the first?

I'm sorry …. It's kind of sloppy since I rushed writing it in…twenty minutes… ehehehehe…it's already 11:49 pm…

And I know it's lagging but a chapter on the magic book will come up…PROMISE… 

Thanks to the reviews!! I enjoyed reading them!! (hi, Shane!! I know who you are!!!)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Ehehehehe…gotta sleep now…

PS

I based The Virtues of Sovereignty on the Roman virtues that are upheld by ancient citizens long ago.

Check out the website at… 


	11. Words In A Different Language

VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTES: I revised the last part of chapter ten üüü I realized that it didn't work well with what was brewing in my mind so I had to change it. But it's actually a kind of minor change, although, I would appreciate it if you would read it. 

HAVE FUN WITH THIS CHAPTER!! 

~*~*~*~*~*~

There were many times I considered myself to be right-minded and prudent. A person who knew her limits and a person who would not run headlong to peril. But it seemed to me that I had lost all my prudence, all my logic, and all my right-mindedness when I ran to the stables and saddled my horse brought in from the castle. I didn't know when I did pass Wistria's gates, but I knew that the rain was beating down my back and my mare, Taliza, was whinnying softly. Even more, I was only wearing the morning gown I had donned for breakfast. The raindrops fell on my back and went through the thin fabric of my gown. The hasty coiffure that I put my hair in was already slipping, my tawny locks clinging to my head. But none of this completely registered in my mind. There was only the girl's frantic screams for her sister's safety, and the sudden blankness as she pointed out the exact directions to Sikes. 

Ely had tried to dissuade me with all her might. She even followed me to the stables. "Are you crazy, Catleya?! You're going to an ogre-infested farm just to talk! And without changing gowns first! You'll get killed!" 

But I brushed away her worries and focused only on the woes of the girl. 

And that was how I found myself galloping Taliza to Sikes. 

My blood ran cold when I neared the farm. I could already hear shouts, ranging from the guttural roar of the ogres to the high pitched screams of women. There were sounds of metal against metal, which made we wonder. How could these ogres carry weapons? They were barbaric animal creatures, and swords were rare amongst them. Beyond the sounds of carnage, I could hear the crooning of the ogres. The taut muscles of Taliza suddenly relaxed. I quickly rode away from the farm. 

If I were to endanger myself, I would not endanger my horse too. I rode to the safety of the forest and tied Taliza's reins to a tree. She was pacing slowly, her hooves going up and down, crushing the wet grass. 

"Shush, girl," I whispered. "You will be safe here." 

I then opened my saddlebag and took out a container of beeswax. I had always brought it around me so then I would be sure that ogres would not attack me. I placed it in my ears. Soon, I could only hear the muted whinnies of Taliza, and could only feel the thrash of rain around me. 

I closed my eyes and wished for good luck. I took a deep breath and ran to the direction of the farm.

Whatever made me do this? But the girl's screams for her sister was enough. I knew that deep down I would try to help Owen out if he ever got into this kind of snitch. But then, he wouldn't be defenseless, now would he? No. The girl's sister was defenseless, and so were all the other unfortunate people in that farm. 

Father had always told me to make use of my abilities to the extent. I should always use these abilities for those who need it. And I grew up with this philosophy. Whatever danger there was before me, I knew that I would be scared out of my wits. I knew that my cowardice would reveal itself. But how could I go against something I had believed since childhood? No, of course not, I couldn't. 

Or maybe because I was manipulated by Father. Well, that was a rather funny thought on such a crisis. I was Catleya, a _princess, _a _young _girl, for crying out loud, and I was going head-on to a menace of ogres! I was completely and utterly crazy. But I couldn't stop now. I haven't had much experience with real vicious ogres… after all, in linguist school we had only practiced on one of the captive ogres. And these ogres were not as vicious as those who prowl the lands and ravage people.

This was real. 

And I had never been more scared.

The farm of Sikes was already a battlefield. I froze behind a tree, trying to quickly note the whole scenario. It was grimmer than I had thought. Worse, I was beginning to feel that even with a linguist, efforts would be wasted. The travelers that had come across Sikes had been—fortunately—knights bearing arms, more than ready to fight against the aggressors. But the ogres were in an overwhelming amount. While each ogre tribe could compose into ten ogres, this particular band had about two tribes squeezed into them. The girl had been right. There were twenty ogres, but about seven of them were already defeated.  

I could hear many sounds that breached the barrier of beeswax in my ears. The groans of struggling men, and the screams of those innocents caught in between the fire. There were about ten ogres carrying weapons, a strange sight because ogres were too dull and stupid to handle one, more so to obtain one. The knights were nine in number, their horses carrying them high above the air from the ogres. But four of those horses had already succumbed to the beating of rain and brutal ogres, and the knights were left to fend for themselves without their steeds. Far beyond the farm, I could see the hazy figure of a carriage. The knights must have been accompanying an important personage, and had stopped to give their aid. 

Many of the knights were sporting wounds on all sorts of places, and I almost swooned at the sight of it. Five ogres already were dead, with blood coming out of their chests and heads. Two ogres lied down on the muddy ground, their heaving, _breathing_ chests separating them from the corpses. Their limbs were tied with thick rope to keep them from running when their consciousness would return. Their mouths were already gagged. Two of the knights had already exceeded their potential, and fell on top of the ground. But they were far from death, I could see with their agonized breathing. 

Apparently, the ogres had seen the futility of charming their armored foes with their sweet adulations and pleas. They had turned to their brute strength to ward off these threats to their dinner.  

_Catleya…you are not meant for this…you're meant for books and libraries…not bloodshed and violence_, I thought miserably. 

A large part of me wanted to turn around and run for home. Whatever I did, it would be useless. I would probably just lose my life and Kyrria would be bereft of another flower. 

Another scream disturbed the air once more.

"Listen to me," I said in Ogrese. I remembered my mother's advice to me. "Don't forget! Honey and oil are an ogre's hated sauce," she told me mischievously, as her way. And I tried to coat my throat with honey and oil, endeavoring to mimic them in all ways.

But my voice was too soft, and coming behind a tree. It was more a frightened mew of a kitten than a commanding linguist.

"Listen!" I screamed in Ogrese. 

One of the ogres stopped his advance on a knight. He was nearest to me, about ten feet away. The knight was bewildered with the sudden change of his enemy. The ogre turned to look at my direction, and hearing my voice, he listened. His face was slacked and drugged. 

I sucked up my breath and walked forward. The knight noticed my approach and was alarmed.  The courage I had summoned with all my efforts suddenly vanished into a puff when I got near creation's vilest monsters. "L-listen to me ogre friend," I said, my voice quivering. The magic of my speech was going suddenly; the ogre's face slowly resuming its normally sadistic expression. _Stop quivering!_ "Why do you waste your time with human blessing?" I asked him. "You know that these benefactors will help you. Let him…rope your hands and legs. When you do you will…" I loathed the hesitancy in my voice, but it seemed that Wistria had absorbed all my creative energies. "You will…get the whole population of giants for yourself. You will raise a farm very much like this one. Only that instead of harvesting vegetables and eggs, you would be breeding giants and eating their babies!" 

The ogre was dazed out of his wits. The knight didn't hear a word of what I said, due to his beeswax. But he took the ogre's dazedness as a cue to tie his hands. He nodded to me, as if to say thank you, but I couldn't quite hear him.

I bit my lip nervously. There were still twelve more ogres, and I wasn't sure if I could handle them. It was good that all of the remaining ogres were engrossed with their own enemies. If they noticed me, unarmed and weak-looking for them, I would be attacked immediately. Ogres were fast if they wanted to, and if they all geared their interests to me, the knights wouldn't be able to stop them. And I could die.

I wouldn't be able to conquer them all mightily and easily alone. I could only hope that Lady Sylvia would come.

"Ogres," I called amiably. "Ogres, why do you spurn your blessings?" 

Two stopped and stared at me. Hungrily. They ignored their foes and did what I feared. They came to me.

With my heart as frantic as the falling droplets of rain and my body shaking with fear, I collected all my wits. "These people are your benefactors," I quickly said. "They will give giant farms where you farm for giants instead of vegetables!"

My fear had shown through, and I couldn't get them to be bewitched. 

I took another deep breath. "Imagine this, ogre friends. That you wake up after a nice doze in a comfortable haven and not in damp cave. You will wake up and you will no longer chase after your food. The slivers of giants would already be at your table, just waiting to be eaten." 

They stopped. 

"They would be steaming hot and fresh from the kitchen, with all the finest garnishing that you envy. They would have herbs and spices that come directly from a master cook. And best of all, they are yours, every day, whenever you want to eat delicious food especially for you. But how can you get this when you fight those who come to give to you? Do you want them to snatch back the fantasy with an opportunity to come true through them? If you let them tie you up and if you wait patiently, then you will get the coveted giant farm."

The two of them simultaneously dropped to the ground and sat. They held out their hands in almost comical way and waited for the anticipated rope. The knights they were supposed to be fighting immediately tied their outstretched arms and gagged them. Alright, so there were ten more to my troubles. I couldn't handle them all. Not with the fear piling up inside of me. It was no consolation that I had handled three ogres without any sort of injury.

Someone suddenly screamed, but I couldn't understand the words. 

Then I saw an ogre fall on the ground beside me. The ground almost thudded when his body collapsed to the ground. I screamed in horror as I saw life oozing out of his body. I almost fell when I turned around and looked at who could have saved me from inevitable death.

The face was too familiar…of course; the last time we had met I had stomped away from him, furious albeit foolish. He had chastised me, lectured me, and reprimanded me about my not so flowery attitude. 

"Tristan?" I said. But he couldn't hear me of course. He mouthed my name, seemingly filled with disbelief.

But then, his face was that of shock also. _What is Catleya doing here?_ He was probably thinking. Well, what was _he _doing here? Shouldn't he be safely ensconced within the walls of the Ayorthaian citadel? Though, he couldn't hold on to his bewilderment for long. Instead, he nodded to me, and ran to help another fellow knight with an ogre. I was frozen again, no longer with fear. Tristan just _saved _me. The imp that tormented my childhood had struck down an ogre. I was grateful, more than, I was thrilled at the thought of it. But I couldn't quite explain it…what in the world was so thrilling about an ogre trying to sample your neck? 

The sound of squealing carriage wheels penetrated the beeswax in my ears. I abruptly turned around and saw a carriage bearing the arms of Wistria. A Wistrian Lady jumped out of the carriage and surveyed the damage. She noticed her, and her eyes were narrowed. 

I was in deep trouble, and the damnation I had so often affiliated with Wistria would truly come now.

But I knew that Lady Sylvia was no at all regretful of my presence. She knew as well as I that a person could not handle this alone. 

We opened our mouths at the same time and tried to soothe the ogres with false promises in trickery. At the same time, the benevolent deceit mixed along with the bile that the blood and violence created in my stomach.

~*~

It was still raining hard. My gown was already soaked through and heavy. My hair was already a bedraggled tangle. I was shivering, not only from the cold, but also from the grotesque scenes around me. My teeth were chattering, my knees were shaking, and my hands were cold marble when compared to the same hands only yesterday. As I looked around, I saw all the damage done more clearly. All the animals had been freed and ran freely around the farm, still very much afraid of the ogres. The farm owners slowly came out of their hiding places. A woman was crying, and holding her children in her arms. The hazy silhouette of a carriage that I saw early on was now being driven to the farm. It was getting nearer. 

When all the ogres had successfully succumbed to the spell of words, their hands were tied up and their mouths were gag. They watched stupidly as they saw the corpses of their old companions. They looked expectantly every time they would see the knights. But the knights would either look at them with loath or disgust, never returning the otherwise blissful faces the ogres displayed. Where was the giant farm? When will it come? Would it be near Fens? These questions probably raced across the minds of these ogres, all leaving a trace but never an answer. But soon, the magic would wear off. They would see the bleeding and lifeless bodies of their companions, and they would scream in fury and fear.

We took off our beeswax. The first thing I heard was Lady Sylvia shrieking at me. 

It was amazing how such a petite creature could carry such an explosive anger. "What were you thinking, Catleya? Running away from the school and pursuing murderous ogres!! Why I never! Never in the history of Wistria has this…this kind of _abomination_ happened! We never had a lady run out of Wistria, _in the middle of breakfast_, and wearing her _day _gown just to haul your supposed pampered self into a farm ravaged by atrocious, sanguineous ogres!! Oh sweet mother pioneer of Wistria's academy! Why of all the times do we have to be plagued by such an unruly lady?" She glared at me. "But that is not the worst of all the things that have been destined to happen. From among the one hundred students of Wistria, it had to be _you_, your _Highness_, to run away from the academy and…_talk_ to ogres. A princess, someone who should display delicateness and docility, not rampaging emotions and festinate judgments! What can you say for yourself?" 

I stared at her challengingly. While she was going through her tirade, I had not interrupted. It was all a strategy, I supposed. My answer would have more value if she had spoken more about the stupidities I had committed in less than an hour. I shrugged my shoulders. "_Nothing_," I answered with a defiant tone that sent Lady Sylvia's eyebrow rising up. "_Except_ that you would probably be wounded or _dead_ had I not helped you with the ogres," I added in a flippant voice. 

Lady Sylvia started to protest but it died in her mouth. 

"If you'll excuse me, Lady Sylvia." I left her there. Before I face her wrath once again, I would have to settle things first with my unexpected rescuer. Lady Sylvia could just live with her beliefs, or whatever it was that was powering her overly conformed thoughts. My time should not be wasted on nonsense, especially when I knew I was absolutely right in disobeying their rules by coming here. The audacity of Lady Sylvia to conveniently forget my contribution in solving this problem! Besides, there were more pressing matters that should be addressed. A matter concerning a certain Ayorthaian prince.

I saw him knelt beside a knight who had wounded his arm. He was shaking his head, and spoke in low tones with him. He looked up and saw me. The man also looked at me, unsure of how to react. He whispered something to Tristan's ear. Despite the gravity of the situation, he managed a smirk. I could only stare at his smirking, unbelieving that he was actually there, when I thought I would never see him again. The amusing thing was his own disheveled state did not detract the handsomeness in his face—and I couldn't help but notice it. He still had the rapscallion gleam in his eyes, not to mention the smirk on his lips. He was watching me closely too, probably trying to conclude if it was a princess and not a beggar girl standing in front of him. He stood up.

"This is quite a spectacle: the princess of Kyrria, mud on her drenched gown, hair knowing no coiffure," he grinned when I glared at him, and he added, "and apparently savior to the Sikes farm."

"This is quite a spectacle also," I replied. "The prince of Ayortha, mud on his drenched tunic, blood on his sword, and a jester in all the wrong places." I shook my head. "But I do wish to thank you for making sure my life is still with me. Had you not…" I couldn't say it. It was as if my words were knotted in shambles inside my throat.

He nodded. He carelessly ran his hand through his sodden dark hair. "You shouldn't thank me, Catleya. I would have done so even if you weren't standing there. It is I who should thank you. We were in dire need of a linguist, and from what I had gathered from your," —he glanced at Lady Sylvia who was still busy hiding her chagrin— "vocal instructor you had risked both your enrollment in Wistria as well as your life." 

"Do my ears deceive me? Tristan, the arrogant prince, is actually denying my thanks? Well, you should have taken it when you could because I prefer to keep my dignity intact rather than thank you," I replied but I smiled. 

"Am I that impossible that you cannot even thank me at normal—_not _life threatening—situations?" He grinned. "But I should have known that if we needed a linguist from Wistria you would come. Although, your breakfast must have been distasteful, considering that you abandoned it to witness a more," —he hesitantly gestured at the obvious battlefield Sikes had become— "gruesome scene." 

"There was no breakfast to abandon mainly because I was forbidden to partake in it due to my insolence." 

He couldn't believe it; I saw it in face. But when it slowly dawned to him that I couldn't possibly lie about it, a small smile crossed his face. "I thought they were resolute, but I had underestimated their discipline. Albeit, I would much rather suffer an empty appetite rather than this." The shadow in his eyes completely exposed his sentiments. But I couldn't mention that dawning of a different Tristan to him…I just couldn't. It was as if I wanted to keep the knowledge that there was another man inside him, someone who didn't laugh at another's expense, and someone whose roguish looks and attitude became gossip as well as truth. 

I shook my head. "You made me completely forget why I had come to you. Whatever are you doing here, so near Wistria and so far away from Ayortha? When I was visiting Ayortha while you guided me through the twisted alleyways, I had the strong impression that you did not want to leave." 

The rogue in him came back. "My dear Catleya, you would not want to know." 

"And why ever not?" I shot back.

"Because when we parted ways, you had shown a rather unenthusiastic response to her." At the pronoun, he smirked.

_Her?_ Who was the her in his life the last time we parted? "Lady Amara," I answered, endeavoring to mask the ill I wished for her. "You are accompanying Lady Amara to Wistria, specifically to the weekly ball held on Friday," I concluded. An odd taste in my mouth was left when I finished my sentence.

He shrugged his shoulders. "News does run quickly amongst females." 

I rolled my eyes. "What is that suppose to mean?" His second smirk meant that he would never answer me. "Never mind. But I just concluded. Although, I must warn you to stay away from a certain group of harpies who are bent on my destruction and your worship." 

He raised his eyebrow. "Truly? Why should I avoid their doting? Do not tell me that you are jealous once again." 

"You always wish I was jealous, Tristan. And I will leave you to that thought for now. I can never get _anything_ out of you, so I might as well get my horse and ride back to Wistria. Anything is better that Lady Sylvia's seething hatred towards me." 

I turned to leave but Tristan grabbed my hand. "No, stay. I'd think it would be for the better. You could join us in the carriage where you will be a great deal warmer. We wouldn't want the princess to catch a dreadful cold," he told me. "We are on the way to Wistria also. And what would be a more heroic return that in the midst of another one such as yourself." 

His smoldering roguish look immediately made me want to punch him, but I had to laugh. "Fine. I don't want to catch a cold. But on the other hand, that punishment would be miniscule when compared to the one I will get from the formidable ladies of Wistria."

I looked around the farm. "But, Tristan…isn't it peculiar that such a large group of ogres would attack a nondescript farm?"

"I know." The expression on his face was replaced by something that was brooding and serious. "It could be that they would want to have a more abundant capture for food or they believe that strength comes in numbers. But ogres are not exactly sociable creatures—especially nomadic ogres such as these ones. But assuming that such a large number of ogres could band together as a tribe, I have to agree with you that Sikes is too small a farm to attack, much less provide for all of them. Ogres are greedy after all." 

"I do not mean offense but it _is_ common knowledge that ogres are not smartest of all creatures. But it could be that they realized they would have more food if they were more of their number. You said it yourself: they are greedy. And greed could propel them to do anything…but still, it is against their instinct to go in large numbers. There must be something about Sikes that held a particular interest to these ogres. Unless, of course, one of the ogres—a leader, I suppose—instructed them to band together and attack Sikes." I shrugged my shoulders. It was too complicated, but something was wrong. This was not a normal ogre attack. 

He nodded. "Maybe. But why Sikes? Only a human could have interest on this. Because he or she could be the one who knows something special about Sikes. What if Sikes had a hidden stock of diamonds? Only a human could find out. Not ogres." 

I scoffed, "That's impossible, Tristan, and you know that it cannot be done. The possibility of a human seeking assistance from ogres is very near impossible. No human would lower himself to that, and no ogre would ever listen to a human. That is, willingly, and they looked very willing to me. Frankly, ogre-human relations are not exactly blooming splendidly." 

"But what if human and ogre could both get what they want? Wouldn't that be enough incentive to tolerate each other?"

"No it is not," I pressed. "You know all too well the endeavors of the kingdom of Kyrria to before to knock some sense into those ogres, to _appease_ them even, but nothing works. It's against our own instincts to cooperate with them! Why should now be any different?"

"Maybe someone breached that barrier. Maybe even that someone who sent for these ogres, someone who could unify them in a way an ogre tribe leader, is part of the group of people who tried to establish positive relationships with ogres." 

I shook my head. "Impossible. That was done five years ago, and I was there even if I was still eleven. They simply do not want to cooperate. They couldn't even communicate with us properly." 

"But isn't the linguistic era at its peak? Isn't this the exact moment wherein you could control anybody through excellent Ogrese? You had shown that now. You controlled those ogres. Catleya," he said and took hold of my shoulders. "If you could do it to hostile ogres, what more if those ogres are actually…friendly?" 

"They would never be friendly in the first place!" I answered vehemently. "It is downright impossible! Ogres cannot even establish their own kingdoms! They cannot even tolerate each other's presences, what more a human's?" Then I stopped. "But they have weapons. And I saw how they fought. They knew how to use it."

"I noticed that too," he answered speculatively. He let go of me and walked to one bloody carcass, and without flinching, took the sword from the dead ogre's still clutching hand. I stared at him, speechless. He was looking at the sword closely, as if taking note of every minor detail. He shook his head. I cautiously approached him, knowing that the sight of the ogre could send my constitution in shambles. He glanced at me. "I know you will not believe me so let me show you some visual evidence. Look at the hilt of this sword." 

I looked. "So?  It looks like a typical sword with the loop guard, quillon, the annellet…it proves _nothing_ except that they managed to steal from a blacksmith and learn how to use the weapons."

"Probably but did it ever happen? Surely, if a band of _twenty_ ogres attacked a blacksmith, a mine, a weapon shop, and stole a bulk of weapons it would be common knowledge. This looks like a sword, of good workmanship, if I may add," he said. "But look at the loop guard? It is extending far from the grip of the hilt. Aside from that, the curve of the knuckle guard accommodates a hand that is large." 

I scrutinized the blade he was holding. And yes, he was right. The metal that was curved away from the grip, the main handle, was rather extensive. If I placed my hand on the sword, a good two inches of air would occupy the space between the knuckle guard and my hand. And the knuckle guard was supposed to be close to the hand to prevent injury. 

My eyes flew back to him. "Are you suggesting that—" I couldn't say it. It was far too bizarre, too sinister, to imagine. 

He nodded grimly, dropping the sword to the ground. "Yes. Someone had made these swords for them."

~*~

Sorry again for the delayed update…it is summer here and I'm still busy…Life oh life oh life. I hope you like this chapter although I must admit that I'm not exactly the best at chronicling bloody battles :P I'm human!!

This is an IMPORTANT chapter. Ok? So keep it in mind? 

As for the details on the swords of the ogres, please feel free to browse the sites I accessed to have more information. Üüüü you'd understand it even more (despite my lousy description…sorry üüüü) and you'll visualize it even more too! üüüü diness üüüü 


	12. A Magic Book

"No," I told him mulishly. "It cannot be done. I told you, it just cannot be. And I refuse to believe it," I added. He made sense, but not enough sense for me. The pure notion of a collaboration, nay! Even an affiliation of ogres with humans was too impossible for me to allow myself to fathom it. 

Tristan smiled grimly. "I had known that would be your answer. And I can't blame you. It is, after all, just a conjecture. A theory." He shrugged his shoulders. "We don't have much more evidence other than the one at hand." 

I nodded. I couldn't deny the fact that he had a point, but as I said, I refuse to believe it. There was evidence, and plausible to boot. But no. There was still the matter on who could be the perpetrator. No one could possibly pull it off. Probably, but not likely. This person would have to have great power and influence, not to mention high financial status to manage this scheme…if it were a scheme. And assuming it might happen, it would still be highly unlikely because…simply because those who have power and influence were directly under the hand of the king—Father. Dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons, even the squires—they were all under the hand of Father, and all had pledged to serve with justice and transparency. Kyrria was not just a kingdom reputed with political stability for nothing!

Simply put, I found it hard to believe that someone could do this.

But what else could I believe? 

"Then what do you think happened?" he asked me. 

I frowned at him. I should have known better than to challenge Tristan in a game of theories. Another proposition was the only thing to disprove the other. "Perhaps I belittled the ogres greatly. Maybe they are capable to join in large groups. After all, why shouldn't the ogres be competent of advancement? Frankly, I do not wish to believe that someone could do this. Especially in Kyrria." 

He threw me a smug look. "You overestimate your Kyrria too much." 

"I do not," I retorted calmly. "I am merely stating the facts as I see it. You should know better, Tristan, than to question me about Kyrria's politics. No one is could be suspected of this. If there was some anomaly or some sort injustice happening in Kyrria, I will know about it."

"I don't know as much as you do, so I'll leave it there." He glanced at the dead ogre. He didn't flinch, much less shudder, which I did anyway. "We will just have to leave this until something comes up again."

"_If_ something comes up, and I surely hope not."

"Aren't you interested in solving this?" he asked in surprise. His blue eyes bore through me.

"No," I scoffed. "I'd rather have no revelation on this matter as long as there will no longer be ogre attacks. I will not allow another incident like this to happen just so we can gather more clues to whatever is behind this. And getting the said evidence is not even guaranteed! Should the lives of innocent people be at risk just for the vague _uncertainty_ that there will be more evidence?"

"So you're just going to leave this to rot in the confines of your memory?" he shot back. "What if it doesn't happen again and no one would give a second glance to this occurrence and unbeknownst to us, it's getting bigger? And what if by the time it's epoch of decline has ended, another attack could overwhelm the army?" 

I stared at him squarely. "And what if it will simply stop?" 

Tristan raked his hand through his wet hair in exasperation. "You're impossible. Is that you're only purpose in life? To contradict and oppose everything I say?" 

I crossed my arms below my breasts. "Maybe because I don't see any logic behind what you're saying."

"Or you're just plain stubborn," he answered with a grin. When I opened my mouth to reply, he cut me off. "So, are we going to Wistria or will we just stay under this downpour?"

He somehow managed to make to laugh. It was rather funny though. We had the opportunity to get out of the rain which showed no signs of calming down, yet we chose to argue amongst ourselves. But his eyes then went over my shoulder, and he groaned.

"Your Wistrian lady is coming over." 

I abruptly stopped laughing. I turned around and sure enough, there was Lady Sylvia, wide flower-printed umbrella in hand, coming to our direction. She was stared wide-eyed at the carnage around her, at the same time, making sure her satin slippers didn't suffer great damage with the mud and rain. But then, her efforts were obviously futile.

The two of us froze at the sight of her coming towards us. We waited for the inevitable.

Lady Sylvia reached us, quite breathless. Her umbrella went over Tristan and I, but by the time it did, we were already soaked. What difference did more rain make? "Your Highnesses," she gasped, and curtsied. The ceiling of the umbrella collided Tristan's head when she did. Lady Sylvia glared at me. "Princess, please leave this abomination to the men and come with me to Wistria in my carriage. Immediately." 

The haughty tone in her voice irked me but there was nothing else I could do but comply.

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," Tristan suddenly spoke. 

Lady Sylvia's owlish eyes widened even more. "B-b-but," she stammered, clearly disconcerted with the thought of offending _his Ayorthaian Highness_.

"I had already invited Princess Catleya to join in my carriage, as I would like to discuss…certain diplomatic issues with her." He winked at me. 

Her bonneted head bobbed in a nod. "As you wish, your Highness," she answered demurely and curtsied again. "But…I am not exactly in favor of relinquishing my umbrella, so I shall escort the two of you to your carriage, your Highnesses. I certainly do not wish to have you rained down." 

Tristan and I looked at each other, trying to suppress the laughter. We were already wet, there was no point in using an umbrella. "Uhm…I do not think it is necessary, Lady Sylvia," I offered. "Tris—Prince Tristan and I would be fine on our own." 

"If you wish it so, your Highness," Lady Sylvia replied but there was a quizzical look in her eyes. "But I must tell you, that our headmistress, Lady Ophelia, would like to have very urgent words with you. She expects you to be in the Wisteria parlor adjacent to Lady Ophelia's quarters. I'm sure you would not have a difficult time finding it." She curtsied again. When would this curtsying stop? "I shall leave now, your Highnesses. We shall see each other in Wistria. Until then." Then she looked at me suddenly, her eyes wider than ever. She paled, then went red. "AND BE DECENT!" she almost screamed at me. 

I could only watch her retreating back in confusion. What did she mean be decent? I was as decent as I was every day.

Tristan took my hand. "Come on. We can continue our little debate in the carriage where we will most likely stay healthy." 

I let him lead me to the carriage. It was hardly inconspicuous. The teal color of the carriage shined as if it were polished everyday. There was velvet curtains were a small luxury. The six horses pulling the carriage were all admirable and perfect thoroughbreds. Their white coats stood out from the gray sheet of rain that fell down. But what was most noticeable of the carriage was the emblazoned coat of arms of the Ayorthaian royal family. The dragon that symbolized the power of the royal family curled around a golden shield divided into the representations of the four elements. 

_Alama__ Iri Erese_. It was written in ancient script. The Royal Ayorthaian saying that meant _Calm Amidst Waves_. 

But before Tristan could open the door for me, it swung open, and at the same time, hitting me hard on my side. I was pushed back, and I clutched my side.

"What in damnation!" I almost screamed. I was soaking wet, I had just witnessed a nightmare, I just came an inch from death, and now my side was sore. This couldn't get any worse, I thought. But then, I saw who was in side, and realized, yes, it could get worse. 

The one who swung the door had her hands over her mouth but I highly doubt it was because she accidentally assaulted me with a carriage door branded with a kingdom's coat of arms. She was still perfect in all angles, and even the wild frightened expression in her face did not detract the loveliness in her. Her gown was still the riches of fabrics—and dry—which ultimately led me to wish that I had brought an umbrella or a cloak along with me in this venture. The expanse of bosom that was exposed by the low cut of her gone heaved up and down with terrified breaths. I knew for a fact that the sight of that was enough to make a man take her in his arms and live with her in sin, and thankfully, Tristan was quite immune to that. But I noticed him swallow, much to my annoyance—at _her_. Couldn't this wench at least wear a cloak? This was hardly the time and place to exult her blessings!

"Tristan!" Amara exclaimed…or so I thought she exclaimed. She certainly had the tone of one in shock, but her voice was still soft and demure. "I saw you out there, and your sight, well and unharmed, is the only thing that withheld me from fainting with fear!" 

I looked at her, mouth open. Tristan nodded, but his lips were pressed tight, suggesting that he was suppressing a smile. 

"Those ogres were appalling! I declare I have never seen such monstrosities before…please, Tristan, comfort me by saying that all of them are truly gone," she continued to tell him.

He smiled at her. "Yes, they are all gone, so don't worry your pretty little head." 

Color rose up Amara's cheeks when he said that, and I could only roll my eyes. It was wrong to come and join them in their carriage. I would sooner hit myself with a mace rather than watch these two sweeten up the atmosphere. But then, if I were in the Wistrian carriage, I would be subjected to sermons, tirades, and philippics, no doubt lowering the little humanity I was feeling in the moment. 

Looking at Amara made me wish that I hadn't risked my neck for this. She was as perfect as the one of the masterpieces of the court painters while, on the other hand, was weed—drenched, trampled, ripped apart, and chewed up—compared to her resplendency. People were probably weren't right in the head when they boasted that I was the Flower Of Kyrria.

"Please come in now, Tristan!" she cried softly. Her amber eyes were suddenly crystalline with coming tears. I stared at her, still shocked at her _ingratiating_ attitude towards Tristan. I stole a look at him, and was immediately relieved that he wasn't as compelled as what I expected. In fact, he had a dubious look in his face, one that was unbelieving yet also deciding whether too pity or to laugh. Amara reached for him with her silk gloved hands and pulled him inside.

But he did not let himself be pulled right away. He looked at me, somehow seeking help. "Amara, Princess Catleya will be joining us to Wistria, You are aware that she is currently…studying there." 

More like suffering.

Amara gasped dramatically, and let a gloved hand hover in front of her roseate lips. She stared at me as if I had grown another head. "Princess Catleya! I am truly, very apologetic. Apparently, I did not see you. Please, come in, both of you. You are in dire need of shelter." 

My cheeks were already burning as I entered the carriage. Even the luxury of a spacious and velvet-lined seat did not appease the torrent of emotions in me.  _Did not see me? _That was probably the most ridiculous alibi I had ever heard in my entire lifetime. It was obvious that she deliberately ignored me. Why? Because it was impossible to not see me! I was standing right next to Tristan, the man who she had no trouble pouring all her concerns! 

Tristan cleared his throat. Oh but damnation upon him! I could see in his eyes that he was ready to guffaw—not laugh; it was too mild—any time now!

Amara looked at me curiously. Then she handed me a cloak lying next to her. I stared at the cloak, wondering what I should do with it.

"Please use it, Princess Catleya," she murmured. Then she looked at the length of me. "The rain has soaked through your _very_ thin gown that it seems to have dissolved away." 

I stared at her in bafflement, then looked at myself. _Dissolved away?_ Not quite…but still, the gown had a lighter fabric than I had thought it had, and consequently because of the rain, it had turned…well, indecent. It had clung to my body at every possible corner, and had turned a bit transparent. How could I have not noticed? And all this time I was with _Tristan_ and he had not said a word? Or maybe he didn't notice? But how could anyone not notice? Well, I didn't… _"AND BE DECENT!" _Lady Sylvia's half shriek echoed inside my head. 

I snatched the cloak in her hands, and quickly covered myself. Amara gave me a complacent smile. 

Tristan, at least, had the grace to look away.

~*~

When I got to Wistria, I was accosted with blatantly horrified stares, futilely concealed murmurs, and worse of all, sermons that seemed to be perpetual in length. Amara was received with greater welcome than I. Tristan…the dear Ayorthaian prince was immediately swept away to his own quarters by a fleet of harpies. I had gotten whispers and glances, but no, "You were so brave, Catleya." Not that I could be there to hear it because from out of nowhere, Lady Sylvia came behind me and dragged me to my room to be decent. 

 But that had happened a good hour ago, and I was back inside my room, trying to prevent myself from remembering Lady Ophelia. Wearing a gown of cream silk edged with fine Keneisan lace, I had braved the halls of Wistria to go to Lady Ophelia. There had been a small light of hope inside of me that the sight of the elegant gown I had donned would somehow calm—if not appease—the veritable lion I would surely meet. But alas, I had come inside the parlor and the first thing I had received was a furious roar that could put a dragon to shame. But of course, it had only been one roar, since Lady Ophelia insisted she was a _lady_ and that ladies were only given the right to roar in anger _once_. But that little fact didn't stop her from expressing her boiling rage targeted to my person. In all honesty, I would much rather deal with the shouting yet predictable Lady Ophelia than the icy, condemning, and condescending Lady Ophelia. I suppose that was I why I had been surprisingly quiet. But I was also tired of her, tired everything that had happened.

"You will not attend the weekly ball because of your insolence," she had told me. "And for the time being, you are to be confined to your room. Maybe a temporary detention would curb away from these…manly impulses."

That depraved and utterly malicious woman! I did not give a fig about going to that ball, but the fact that she completely disregarded my assistance in Sykes was enough to send a fist punching on the goose-down mattress. So much gallantry and heroism. At least, I had not harbored any thoughts of a golden welcome fit for a hero. I would have been extremely disappointed. And how dare she term this as _manly impulses!_ They weren't the only ones who could

I should have known. I had risked my life speaking with ogres, and I only had ingratitude. It was worse than having none at all…but then, ingratitude gave you nothing. It was one and same. But what disappointed me more was the fact that this might be what I would get even as a princess. 

Or suppose, it was just the apathetic nature of people.

I would be doing this for the rest of my life, risking possibilities and chances for the sake of the Kyrrian people as their princess. But in this little incident, something not as monumental as preventing war or famine, I had not even received gratitude for those I helped. Who knows? If the ogres were unstopped, they might have continued their criminal exploits to Wistria. But still, no thanks. I would have liked it better that they acknowledged my help but gave me some cool derision because of my insolence. 

"Who in damnation is this mistress of destiny?" I suddenly asked myself out loud. "Madame, I never wanted to be a princess but now you have to make things much worse by giving me ungrateful people!" I closed my eyes.

The sound of rain falling outside my window was the only sound I heard.

The stupid confinement also reached other people. IN a way, they were confined to the rest of Wistria, and were forbidden to enter my room. I wondered what Ely could have been doing. Maybe I should have listened to her and stayed behind. 

My eyes were open again. If I had to stay in this room, I might as well make the most of it. From the end of my bed, I crawled to the other end and opened the chest sitting in front of it. There were bound to have some books there, since I rarely traveled without a chest containing some favorites. 

Books of all sizes were inside the chest, in different genres and titles. A cloak was also inside. Strangely though, none of this caught my attention completely. Instead, a large book of leather binding took my notice. There was no title in the cover, just the brown and weathered leather dipped with gold in the edges. I took the book and opened it. 

The illustrations were marvelous and depicted scenes from a fairytale. One glance at the beautiful young woman sleeping on a bed entwined with roses made me conclude that this was a book of fairytales, and this was the tale of Briar Rose. 

I turned the next pages, eager to find out more about this book. Somehow, it enchanted me, even though I had seen ancient texts deserving of more enthrallment.

But the next thing written was not a fairytale, rather, it was written by my mother's hasty writing. I frowned when I realized the familiar script, and wondered how it got there. 

_Dear Catleya, _

_I do not when you will be able to discover this magic book in your possessions, but I do hope this letter would reach your eyes when you do. If you are reading this, then I pray you do not shut the book with anger. But rather, I think you should smile because at last (and it has been a bit overdue) you will receive what your tantrums had demanded._

Tantrums? She was probably referring to my less than mature behavior in Ayortha…

_But nonetheless, you must understand that we wanted to tell you, but without the confines of security, it would not be advisory. _

_If we tell you in an earlier time, your anxiety might prove to be detrimental, since this threat is weighing…by all means._

_I wasn't lying when I said someone's life is at risk in this matter. And young lady if you think I am jesting right now, you are wrong. I am writing the truth, as it is. Don't complain about knowing about it now because after you find out, you will be infinitely grateful that we withheld this knowledge until now! _

_Owen's encounter with the ogres is not the least bit ordinary. In fact, it was…disturbing. These ogres were greater in number. Owen said that they were probably twenty in number. If that does not leave you in wonder, then this will. These ogres handled weapons, and even Owen had to remark their knowledge—if not skill—in using such weaponry. _

I stopped reading. This had happened before? And just recently? Then it wasn't just a coincidence!__

_When they had successfully defeated the ogres, two humans who were surprisingly with them and _cooperating _with them (no matter how unbelievable this sounds, yes, I am not telling you fairy stories) were held captive. One of them gloated about the motive of the scheme, but then, that was the only thing he said, after much spitting and cursing the knights. He killed himself after his display of treachery to both parties. His companion had not said anything. And he followed the path his comrade so willingly took._

_Catleya…the man said that the ogres were after _you_. He went as far by confessing he was forced to help them to get to you. Owen said that their deprived state of dress and nutrition contributed to that condition. Ogres never cared for their captives, even if they are their guides of some sort. It could be that they helped them in that battle because they were made to obey their honeyed commands. It is possible, and the only explanation._

_I don't know why they want to harm you so, but we did not wish you to know earlier. If you had, you might have searched for the villain, as is your impulsive nature. Or worse, you might have had troubling nights and days, held on by the fear of something impending. _

_You father and brother has taken this situation under wraps but in control. This will not go out. But I assure you, this threat to you would mean a greater rift between the ogres and humans. I am now truly convinced of the consuming vileness these monsters have. _

_They are investigating this matter now but so far, there are no leads. Perhaps, this is but a coincidence. But nonetheless, this has strengthened the campaign to rid this land of ogres. They are now losing all control! We have to protect Kyrria now, and not wait till these ogres smarten up. We don't want to deal with spell casting monstrosities, now do we? _

_ Please understand, Catleya. Now that you are in Wistria, we could be certain that you will not go headlong on danger, since the ladies there would surely prevent you. At the same time, this would be the last place those villains would find you._

_I suppose you should owe it to your mother's reputation of avoiding such schools. I have a feeling you are still harboring some animosity for all of us (yes, including Owen) because we allowed you to be there. But now, I hope you would not be so angry towards us._

_Our intentions are always for the best. And frankly, I will not have you in that accursed place if it the situation was not so fatal!_

_Write to me whenever you want to. And when you do, then I am sure you have forgiven us of any trespasses._

_Love, _

_Mother_

_PS_

_I do hope your tongue had not wasted during that long time you refused to speak with us!_

Despite the urgency clearly stated in the letter, I smiled at the end. Typical of Mother to insert some sort of remark at the end. But it didn't last long. I was feeling guilty because of what I had caused them all. They truly meant well, but because of my proud and stubborn nature, I had cast all their good intentions aside. Looking back, I realized I was even more impossible than a toddler. My actions shamed me, and I regretted all I had done. They didn't deserve all my nonchalance and contrariness. 

Though another feeling my mind, and this was fear. They were after me.

But why?

In all accounts, I was just a princess holding no real claim to the throne. If they wanted to usurp the throne, shouldn't the go to Owen? Not that I would wish this ills on my brother! But why me? I was insignificant in the political arena of the Kyrrian kingdom. I knew a lot of the kingdom, but I was not immersed in its affairs unlike Father and Owen. Mother, yes, but she was more concerned in the social aspect and the prolificacy of language schools. I, on the other hand, did not have an action credited to myself only. I was only the Flower Of Kyrria. 

Ignoring all their facts, I came to the conclusion that they had found me, that Mother's reputation was not enough to ward them of from Wistria. They had already come to Sikes. They probably thought it was a convenient detour before going to Wistria. What could stop them from going here? And more…what if their attack would prove to be more successful than the last? What if the ladies of Wistria—even if I didn't have strong feelings for most of them—would be caught between the encounter? It was a lucky coincidence that Tristan had been on his way to Wistria with Amara. If he had not come, then Sikes would be in ruins, and this finishing school was next. 

Although, they wouldn't attack Wistria…they couldn't. The defeat in Sikes was overwhelming, and where could they get twenty more ogres? Of course. This was not possible, with knights also residing at the same time in here. 

Father and Mother were probably right. Wistria was a safe place.

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Hiya!!! I hope you like this chapter!!! And the truth is finally revealed!!! Yeah I know it took me a long time…and I'm deeply sorry… you can hit me on the head now. I deserve it. Come on. Don't be shy… oki…never mind…

Thanks to all the reviews!!! I am so appreciative!!! Hehe…I especially like hearing from you guys!! Hehehe and I hope you saw the reviews I placed there. It's an extended version of the author's note coz the last time I posted, the author's notes were always cut!! _

THANKS AGAIN!!!! ^_^

I'll try to update as soon as possible!!!!!!!


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